The Dance
by whyibelieveitsafish
Summary: AU in which The Institute is a Ballet School, run by the Lightwoods. Featuring all the main pairings, with a major focus on Malec. Tries to follow the character developments shown in the books. How will Alec cope with being dragged into the spotlight?
1. Clary

**Hello there! This is just a little idea I've had in my head for a while. I'm going to try and include major character developments and things from the books, which is why this first chapter is doesn't have any Magnus, and is mainly focused on Clary's arrival.**

**I don't own any of the characters, of course. Enjoy!**

They had already been warming up for ten minutes when Isabelle sauntered in. She was shoving her phone into her bag with one hand, and pulling her dance shoes on with another, and talking over her shoulder to someone just out of Alec's line of sight. He rolled his eyes, and turned back to the bar. Typical Isabelle. She'd probably been meeting some new boyfriend or other outside the school, and lost track of time, as usual. It wouldn't be the first time, or the last, yet somehow his sister always managed to stay on the good side of the teachers.

"Hurry up, Isabelle." Hodge sighed, looking more weary than annoyed. "Everyone else is already warmed up."

"Well, I ran here. So I can catch up." She huffed, ditching her bag and taking her place across the room from Alec.

Jace, looking up from his position on the floor, caught Alec's eye and grinned.

Alec tried to resist a smile, but couldn't quite manage it, so he turned away. What was it about Jace's amusement that was so infectious?

Izzy, meanwhile, had proceeded to start warming up, with what Alec deemed to be far more noise than was entirely necessary. That was the thing about Isabelle: You always knew when she was in the room. She was obviously trying frantically to signal something to Alec from across the room, waving her arms around in an excited frenzy and hissing his name in a stage whisper. Alec shook his head slightly at her, and then pointedly turned his back, beginning a new stretch that definitely required his _full_ attention. Whoever her latest conquest was, he was sure both he and Jace would hear about it in exquisite detail later; he was sure it could wait.

"Right, then. Everyone into positions for the middle section..."

Jace sighed, and pulled himself up from the floor. "I hate this bit." He muttered to Alec under his breath.

"Why? It's easy."

"It's boring."

And with that, he strolled to take his place in the centre of the room, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for Izzy. The two of them had the lead roles: Izzy as Clara, and Jace as her wonderful Prince, the nutcracker.

Alec, for one, had never had a lead role in his life, and he had to admit he was perfectly happy to keep it that way. Jace and Izzy seemed to get a kick out of being in the centre of everything, out of feeling thousands of eyes upon them, and _knowing _they were the best. Alec was fine being on stage, as long as he was in the background. The thought of doing what Jace and Izzy did made him feel sick to his stomach. All those people, just watching you...

Then again, he supposed, it was probably easy to be confident when you'd spent your whole life knowing you were the best. He was average—he had only ever been average—and as such, he was perfectly content to stay in roles designed for average people.

Although, average was something of a relative concept. The truth was that _nobody_ at The Lightwood Institute was average. To get in, you had to pass a series of stringent exams: Practical, theory, improvisation, even _jazz_ (despite the fact that the Institute focused almost solely on Ballet)—you name it, you were tested on it. Alec had breezed through the theoretical exams with little problem, but scraped through the practical by the skin of his teeth.

Izzy had had the opposite problem. Her natural talent came hand in hand with a serious lack of concentration when it came to academics. It wasn't that she _couldn't _do it; she could memorize anything when she put her mind to it. She just didn't really want to, only doing the bare minimum to get through.

Of course, it never hurt when your parents owned the place.

Jace had never had either problem. Everything seemed totally effortless to him: Learning, dancing, music...

_Stop it._ Alec berated himself. _Stop it right now._

He tried to pull himself back into the moment as Hodge hit play on the music, and Jace and Izzy began to glide effortlessly around the room, whilst everyone else held their positions.

It was strange to him, seeing the two of them melt from his sister and his best-friend-sort-of-adopted-brother, who squabbled and teased each other mercilessly, into lovers dancing as if they were the only two people in the world. But the two of them were natural born actors—another skill Alec had always lacked—and to everyone else in the room, he supposed it must seem like the most natural thing in the world.

Slowly, the other dancers began to file in behind them, leaving Alec and a few of the other male dancers hovering on the edge, still waiting. His eyes—somehow, involuntarily—found their way back to Jace. His golden hair flew around him as he twirled, forming a halo of light around his every movement. He was so much more graceful than any other dancer Alec had ever seen; yet at the same time, so much more energetic, so much more alive... He was beautiful.

The moment the thought passed through his head, Alec chased it out again, and spun himself forwards on his cue. That was the good thing about doing ballet: You never had too much time to think. There was always training to be done, dances to be practiced, muscle groups to learn...

And yet, Alec somehow still found the time to over think everything. As he leapt behind Jace, and caught himself _again_ watching his face rather than where he was meant to be going, he couldn't help but think that perhaps most guys didn't think about their best friend's ballet talents in _quite_ the same way he did.

After practice, Hodge released them for lunch. Alec, Jace and Izzy sat themselves in their usual corner, far enough away from the other students that Izzy could talk loudly about her love life and only be _partially _overheard.

"And then he told me he _loved_ me?! Which is so far over the top—I mean we've been dating, what, a month? I just told him I didn't want to see him anymore. He's too creepy."

"That's pretty harsh, Iz." Alec said, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't _actually_ tell him he was creepy, did you?"

She shrugged. "He'll get over it."

Alec had long since learned there was no point arguing with Izzy, so he just went back to eating his sandwich.

Jace, who had said very little, suddenly looked up. "So, you've heard about this Clary girl, right?"

Alec and Izzy both shook their heads.

Jace pushed his plate of untouched food away. "She's starting here tomorrow. She's completely untrained, but apparently your parents saw her audition personally—they told me she's one of the most naturally gifted dancers they've ever seen. She never auditioned before because she thought she had some kind of heart condition? But she doesn't, so she's starting. Today."

"Oh." Alec said, unsure of exactly why Jace seemed so excited. "Why did she think she had a heart condition?"

"I don't know. Her Mom, or something. I met her earlier today."

"Who? Her Mom?"

"No! Clary."

"Is she nice?"

"No. She's ridiculous. She wants to start off doing twelve hours training a day."

"_Twelve_?" Izzy spoke through a mouthful of beans. "She can't do twelve 'll kill herself."

"That's what I told her." Jace leaned back in his chair, looking smug, which was no change at all from usual, yet also oddly... on edge. Something about this Clary girl had him lit up, in a way Alec had never seen from him before. Jace was usually deliberately unenthusiastic about everything; pretending with all he had that he just didn't _care_.

All at once, Alec felt a wave of resentment rush through him. Who even _was_ this girl? Jace barely knew her, and yet already she had Jace more excited than Alec had ever known him—outside of dancing. Even if it was in this feverish, slightly angry way.

That was typical of Jace though.

Alec looked away from him, and immediately he felt Izzy's eyes boring into him.

She had spotted the... _different_ nature of his feelings for Jace even before Alec had really recognized them. He remembered how scared he had been, as she'd voiced the one thing he'd been determined to hide from her since he was thirteen years old.

"_Alec, you're gay. No straight boy has ever looked at another guy the way you look at Jace."_

He'd tried to deny it, but nothing ever got past Izzy. The strange thing was (at least to Alec) that she hadn't seemed to mind.

"She's starting lessons this afternoon." Jace continued, seeming unwilling to drop the subject.

"Won't she hold us all up?" Alec said, sounding perhaps a little surlier than he'd intended to.

Jace ignored him. "I don't think Hodge will have time to train her. It will have to be someone from the class."

"Well, _you_ won't have time either." Izzy reminded him. "And, you don't even know the chorus moves."

Jace folded his arms, immediately on the defensive. "I never said it would be me!"

"You don't _need_ to say it."

"No, that's not-"

Whatever it wasn't, Alec never found out. The bell rang, and the three of them had to pull themselves to their feet, ready for another few hours of practice.

Moments later, Hodge appeared, holding the door open and allowing through a girl of around fifteen, with bright red hair and intelligent green eyes that darted round the room as she entered, surveying everyone in sight.

_So this must be Clary._

Alec immediately felt his heart constrict with jealousy. She was pretty, he could tell—with her freckles, and her petite frame. Yet, even as he recognised how attractive she was, he felt nothing. Unlike Jace, he noted. The moment Clary entered the room, his head whipped round, the expression on his face a curious mixture of his usual disdain, and something quite different altogether. Alec turned away in disgust.

_Why? _He asked himself. _Why are you angry? It's not like he's got any reason why he shouldn't like her, is it?_

"Alright, everyone. Settle down. I want you all to meet Clary Fray. She's going to be joining the class from now on. Now, Clary doesn't have much training, but Mr and Mrs Lightwood believe she'll be capable of keeping up in the advanced class—provided, that is, some of you help her outside of lessons. Would anybody like to volunteer?"

A deathly silence fell over the class. As much as Alec knew nobody would _mind_ helping, it was also true that nobody wanted to be held back. He couldn't help but slide a look over at Jace—would he volunteer?

He didn't seem in any rush to help out. He was leaning nonchalantly against one of the pillars, examining his fingernails with a disinterest too complete to be genuine.

_He likes her._ Alec realised. _He likes her, and he doesn't even know her!_

But... that couldn't be right. Jace never liked anyone. He'd dated half the girls in New York—but he'd never really seemed to have much interest in any of them. Not like this, with the subtle half glances and the pretending not to care.

"Nobody?" Hodge sounded exasperated. "Fine, then, I guess I'll just chose someone. Since you're so new, Clary, I think it would be helpful if we pick someone who's well acquainted with the place. Someone like... Alec."

Alec jerked his head up. "What? No, you can't—I don't think-"

"Why not? You're not behind on any of your other work."

"No, but—"

"Then that's settled. You can get to know each other after the lesson. Clary, would you mind sitting and watching for now...?"

"Of course not."

She strode past, shooting Alec an embarrassed smile on her way, which he did not return.

_This is going to be a nightmare..._


	2. Magnus Bane

**Two chapters in one day? I must be bored**

**Introducing Magnus Bane, everybody!**

"Is this right?"

"No."

"What about this?"

"No."

Clary sighed, stepping down off her tiptoes to turn and stare at Alec in irritation. "Do you feel like telling me _why_?!"

For a moment, Alec considered just saying _no_. _No, I don't feel like telling you why, because my best friend (who I am very secretly in love with) clearly has a thing for you. A thing like he's never had for anyone before. I don't like it, and I don't like you. Please go away._

No, that probably wouldn't be the best thing to say.

Instead, he just sighed in irritation. "Your foot is too far back. Move it forwards."

She did as instructed. "Better?"

"I guess."

It was at that precise moment that the studio door swung open, and Jace Wayland himself strolled in, a smirk on his lips.

"Well well well, look who it is. I can just feel the enjoyment _radiating_ from both of you. Or maybe that's just Alec's sweat."

Alec turned and scowled at him. This was not the first time that week Jace had "mysteriously" shown up to Clary's extra training sessions, much to her apparent annoyance.

"What are you doing here Jace?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Oh, nothing much."

Clary rolled her eyes. "You're coming down here to watch me humiliate myself. Well, thanks. I honestly don't need _two _arrogant, superior dancers hanging over me while I fall over—one is _quite_ enough, thank you."

Alec didn't miss the look she shot him, and was about to protest—it wasn't like he _wanted _to be there, after all, when Jace laughed and said,

"You're flattering yourself. I was instructed to be here at this time, as was everyone else. We've got that drama workshop, remember?"

"And you just felt like turning up early?" Clary raised an eyebrow. "You don't strike me as the overly-punctual sort."

"Oh really? What sort _do_ I strike you as?"

Alec (thankfully) never had to find out; the door opened again, and in poured Izzy and the rest of their class, followed by Hodge. Izzy hurried over to stand beside them, ignoring Clary and Jace almost completely.

"So, do you want to hear about this drama instructor guy?"

"Not really."

"Alec! You'll want to hear this. He's _Magnus Bane._"

Alec shook his head. "I haven't heard of him."

Izzy rolled her eyes. "He's only one of the best actors on Broadway! Up and coming talent, you know, all that. He's going to start being in films this year—he's _super_ hot, so he'll probably be the most famous person in New York by next Christmas."

"That's great, Iz. Why are you telling me this again?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "He also throws _totally_ amazing parties. All we need to do is get invited to one, and we'll be meeting absolutely everyone who's anyone on Broadway. Actors, dancers, agents... You name it!"

"Izzy, surely if he was that famous and well connected, he wouldn't be doing a workshop at a _school_, no matter how famous that school might be. Who did you hear this from, anyway? It's probably completely exaggerated."

Izzy shrugged. "He's famously eccentric. Who knows why he does anything? He's an _actor_, Alec, they're all a little weird."

"You and Jace both act."

"What's your point?"

The door suddenly swung open for the third time—and in strolled a man who Alec assumed could _only_ be Magnus Bane.

Izzy had been right about one thing: He was _definitely _eccentric. He was wearing a dramatic black cape, over blood red trousers and a sparkling blue top. His eyes—which were a curious golden green—were thickly outlined in black eyeliner and... was that _glitter_?

To top it all off, he was wearing a giant wide-brimmed hat, which he now swept off, taking a low bow to the class.

"Ladies and gentlemen." He said, looking up. "I am Magnus Bane."

_Izzy was right_, whispered a little voice in his head, before he could stop it. _He is very attractive. _

Beside him, he heard Clary gasp, and the three of them turned to look at her.

"What is it?" Izzy asked.

Clary's mouth hung open for a moment, her face the picture of shock, before it slowly melted into anger.

"That," she muttered. "Is the man who pretended to be my Doctor."

The workshop passed in a blur of bizarre games and Alec trying not to look at its leader in any way that would suggest attraction. But he really wasn't helping himself. As the lesson progressed, it became clear that Magnus Bane was not only good looking (objectively, of course) and capable of a good entrance—he was also funny, and intelligent. And, by the end of the lesson, Alec felt like he might actually have learnt something, which was unusual.

Clary, however, did not seem to have enjoyed herself quite as much as he had. As Hodge thanked Magnus, she hovered in the background, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Jace, Izzy, and Alec all stayed as well. Jace because Clary was there, and he seemed to be absolutely _attached_ to her these days; Izzy because she could never miss drama, and Alec because... well, where else was he supposed to go?

The moment Hodge left, she pounced.

"_You_." She said simply.

He turned from packing his bag. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually. My name is Clary Fray, and for the past six years I've been seeing you about a heart problem, believing you to be a cardiac specialist—a heart problem that I've since discovered actually doesn't exist. Since my Mother has recently disappeared off the face of the Earth, I can't ask her why in _hell_ she did this, and you are my next best option. So, _Magnus Bane_, can you please tell me what has been going on?"

Magnus sighed, and put his bag on the floor. "Clarissa Fairchild. How could I not remember?"

"Fairchild?" Izzy and Clary both said at once.

"Yes. That's your Mother's actual name."

"My name isn't Fairchild."

"Wait... when you say _Fairchild_, you don't mean _Jocelyn Fairchild?_" Izzy spluttered.

Magnus nodded. "The very same."

Jace whistled through his teeth, and even Alec had to admit he was impressed. Jocelyn Fairchild had been one of the most famous Ballet dancers of her generation; that is, until she had disappeared under mysterious circumstances almost twenty years earlier. Alec knew she had been a friend of his parents—but they didn't like to speak about it. He'd always assumed that they were just too saddened by her disappearance; now, he was not so sure.

"Okay," Clary said. "So what in _God's _name is going on?! Why has my Mother been lying to me?!"

Her voice rose to an almost hysterical pitch, and Alec saw Jace reach out for her. His stomach immediately clenched.

Magnus looked for a moment as if he might not tell her. Then, with a theatrical sigh, he threw his hands into the air, exclaiming. "Fine! Fine. But it's not as if I didn't tell her this would happen..."

"Just _tell_ me."

He gave her a long, steady look. Then,

"Your Mother contacted me nine years ago. You were six, almost seven, and like a lot of little girls your age, you wanted to be a ballerina. Jocelyn claimed she recognised a lot of raw talent in you; if you were allowed to dance, she thought you wouldn't want to do anything else. You'd be one of the best."

"And that's... bad?"

"Your mother left this world for a reason. Her husband, Valentine Morgenstern. Your Father."

"My Father-"

"Died in a tragic car accident?" Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, darling, but no. Valentine is still very much alive. They danced together at another institute—somewhere in Europe, I believe—and they had been married for quite a few years. They were so famous, both of them, the stars of their era... Anyway, they had already had a son together, and Jocelyn claimed that after his birth, Valentine... changed. He became much more possessive, jealous—obsessed with the idea that she was planning on taking Jonathan and running."

Clary looked absolutely stupefied. "Wait, so... I have a brother?"

"Let me continue. He wouldn't let her go out alone. Wouldn't let her speak with her old friends. He allowed her to continue dancing; but only with him. She became... very depressed... It was becoming clear not only to her, but to those around them, that Valentine was _dangerously_ obsessed with Jocelyn. Often, he wouldn't even let her see her son, and as such, she never truly bonded with him, the way a mother needs to. She even told me she felt horrified by him, especially as he got older, and his resemblance to Valentine more acute. It was around that time that Jocelyn realised she was pregnant again. Determined not to let Valentine sabotage her relationship with her second child, she drugged him, and fled. She had intended, of course, to take Jonathan with her as well, but..."

"But?"

"He began to cry. Valentine woke up, and she had to run. She wanted to return for him, but Valentine was too clever. He, too, disappeared that night, along with his son. Jocelyn came to New York, and created a false identity for herself, and for you. She hoped Valentine would never find you..."

"But... I still don't understand what this has to do with me and _ballet?_"

Magnus sighed, with the air of someone who was being extremely patient. "She knew that if you were allowed to do ballet, you would be good. Too good. You would bring attention to yourself, and Valentine _would_ find you. Your resemblance to her, and to him, was too great. She contacted me, and asked that I create a legitimate reason why you absolutely _couldn't_ dance, and I did. She promised that it would only go on until you were old enough to understand, but..." He shrugged. "Here we are."

"So, all the Doctors notes? The letters?"

"I forged them."

"Wait, you're a forger_ and _an actor?"

All four of them turned to look at him, and Alec felt his face growing red. He hadn't meant to sound so impressed, he really hadn't, it was just...

Magnus smiled, and his eyes raked up and down Alec's body, as if noticing him for the first time. Alec's face grew hotter and hotter with every moment.

"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents." He said, a small smile playing around his lips.

Alec looked away. _Does he know? He can't possibly know..._

"So, my Mom's disappearance... You think it's Valentine? My Dad?"

"It would appear so. I've already been in contact with people who might know—they said they don't know of his whereabouts, but it seems likely that he arrived in New York last year. This city may be a big place, but Valentine is a very clever man. It was only going to be a matter of time."

Clary looked utterly wearied. "Well... thanks, I guess."

Magnus rolled his eyes. "It's no trouble, I suppose." He hesitated for a moment, seeming to consider. "If you need any help, call this number." He fished into his oversized cloak for a minute, and then handed her a small card. "As I said, I'm a man of many talents. Same goes for you, blue eyes." He added, and then winked at Alec.

Alec felt his mouth fall open, and his face heat up, going from pale pink to beet red in a matter of moments.

"I.. I..." He spluttered.

Magnus grinned—and with that, he was gone, sweeping out the door almost as dramatically as he'd entered.

Izzy looked at her brother, amusement twinkling in her dark eyes.

_So. Hot._ She mouthed at him.

Alec thought he might die of embarrassment.


	3. Magazines

**Hey guys! I'm getting these done pretty fast at the moment! Reviews very much appreciated **

"I'm _telling_ you, he liked you!"

"No, he didn't."

"Hot guys don't just go around telling you to call them if they don't like you!"

"He doesn't _know_ me, how on earth could he 'like' me?"

"Sometimes you just know, Alec. God, you are so stubborn sometimes!"

"I'm not stubborn, I'm just realistic! Izzy, the moment you see someone who you think is... you know..."

"Gay?"

Alec glanced around them furtively, anxious that their conversation might be overheard. "Don't talk so loud! Anyway, yes, the moment you see someone you think is gay, you immediately start trying to make me talk to them, and I can _see_ you planning our wedding in your mind—don't deny it, I know how your mind works—it's insane!"

Izzy shrugged. "I'm just saying. You can't pine after Jace forever—_especially_ not now that Clary's around. And, you'd look really good in a tux."

"I am not _pining_ after him! And I can wear a tux anytime."

"You _so_ are. I don't see why you don't just call Magnus. That's what I'd do. And tuxes are reserved for special occasions _only_—weddings are one of the few acceptable venues for a tux."

"Whatever. I'm not calling him. Why don't _you_ call him—it says in that magazine that he's bisexual, not gay."

Izzy raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you read the magazine then? Unusual, considering you've never opened one before in your life. What a startling coincidence."

Alec stuck his tongue out at her. "Oh shut up, Isabelle."

She grinned, and got to her feet. "Do you know where Jace and Clary are, incidentally?"

Alec shook his head, trying to look as if he hadn't been thinking about the very same thing all morning. "No, I don't. I think Clary wanted to do some more research into this Valentine guy."

"And Jace is helping?"

He nodded, gritting his teeth.

"You _need_ to work on your poker face. Maybe Magnus could help?"

Alec nearly kicked her.

The bell rang, and they said goodbye to each other, disappearing off to their own classes. Ballet was not the only thing you had to deal with at The Institute—there were all the usual subjects to do as well. Alec, luckily, found he had good enough focus to get through—and he never procrastinated his homework, unlike his siblings. Nonetheless, it was always something of a relief to get to dance. Less thinking, more _doing_, so to speak.

He was halfway through maths when the door swung open, and Clary appeared, looking flustered.

"Sorry," She muttered to the teacher, and then swung herself into her seat, behind Alec.

For a moment, he considered just ignoring her. But he couldn't do it.

He turned to look back at her. "Where have you been?" He hissed.

Clary looked slightly startled. "At the library."

"With Jace?"

She nodded. "And my friend Simon."

"Oh."

Involuntarily, he felt his shoulders relax.

_Could her "friend" Simon mean her boyfriend Simon?_

"Alec, eyes on the board, _please_. You can flirt with Clary after lessons."

Everyone around them laughed, and Alec felt his face going red as he turned back to the front.

_Well, at least you know it's not *that* obvious..._

All at once, he was reminded—strangely—of Magnus Bane. How _had_ he realised that Alec was gay? Or was it just coincidence?

Did he _really_ want Alec to call him? Or was that just one of those things eccentric actor-types did when they were leaving a room? To make a statement, or whatever you wanted to call it.

A voice that sounded remarkably like Isabelle's whispered in his ear _You won't know unless you find out..._

Alec shook his head. He needed to spend less time around her.

At the end of the lesson, he shoved all his books into his bag, making a break for the door before Clary could catch up with him. Maybe if he hurried, he'd get to spend five minutes alone with Jace before she got there...

He pulled the door open, turned the corner... And walked slap-bang into a tall man wearing a hot pink jeans and a bright blue coat.

_Magnus Bane._

"Uuh.. sorry, I uh, didn't see you..."

Magnus stepped back, smiling. "Not a problem, I assure you. Would I be right in thinking this is where I could find Clary Fray?"

Alec nodded— although, for some reason he felt oddly... disappointed?

"Excellent. I have some information for her regarding her Mother's whereabouts. Your that Lightwood boy, aren't you?"

He nodded, again. "Alexander Lightwood, yes."

Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Oh, _Alexander_, is it?"

He seemed amused, and Alec immediately panicked. Clearly, he had said something stupid. Already.

"I mean, most people don't call me that, obviously. That would be weird, um... Alec. I'm Alec."

"Oh, I don't know. Alexander has a certain ring to it."

Magnus was outright grinning now, and Alec could feel the blood rushing to his face.

_That's how he knew. That, right there. Stop blushing!_

"Magnus?"

"Clary, hello."

Alec had never thought he would be glad to see Clary, but at that moment he couldn't have been more relieved. _How on earth was I supposed to respond to that?_

"Did you come here to see me?"

"I did, actually."

Was Alec going crazy, or did his eyes seem to linger on him as he spoke?

"What is it?"

"I've found some information, on Valentine. Or, more specifically, on how he most likely found you and your mother. And where he might have taken her."

Clary's face lit up. "Tell me!"

"I seem to remember you telling me at some point that you paint."

"Yes, I do, but..."

"And, a few weeks ago, would I be right in saying that you had some of your work exhibited?"

"Yes, at the little gallery down the road from my school. But what..."

"What did you have displayed there?"

"Well, um... Mainly portraits. Simon, a few of our other friends, a self-portrait... _oh_! You don't think...?"

Magnus nodded grimly. "Jocelyn had quite an influence on Valentine; made him much more interested in things outside of dance. If he'd already begun to track you down, a portrait of a girl that looked so much like her appearing within the area he was searching might have been the last clue he needed."

Clary looked stricken. "I had no idea. I didn't even tell her exactly which pieces I was having displayed. I remember she seemed a bit worried when she saw that one—I just thought she thought it was bad..."

Magnus put his hand on her shoulder. "It would have happened sooner or later. There was no way you could live your whole life in the shadows. I tried to tell your Mother that, but... It doesn't matter now. A friend of mine recently contacted me, telling me about a place your Mother and Father used to go, when they were young. An old house, in Spanish Harlem. The thought occurs that if he's hiding out..."

"Would he really have gone there? From what you've told me about him, he's too clever for that."

Magnus shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I know. Keep me updated; I'll stay in touch."

Clary shot him a strange look. "Why are you doing this? Helping me, I mean. It's not like you have to."

Magnus shrugged. "I liked your Mother. I like you. I'm an actor; it's not like I don't have any time on my hands."

"I thought you were successful?" Alec blurted out, surprised—and then immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

Magnus waved his hands—and to Alec's amazement, he didn't look offended in the slightest. He was smiling, one side of his mouth dragging up slightly more than the other.

"I _am _successful. But I'm mainly in shows—and I find rehearsals to be something of a drag. So most of my days are free."

"Oh."

Alec looked at his feet.

"If... _either_ of you feel like visiting sometime, I only live a few streets from here."

Alec's head jerked up again. Magnus was looking more at him than at Clary. "It's the big old warehouse next to the park."

"I know the one." Clary nodded.

"Second floor." Magnus smiled, and then, with a nod of his head to either of them, he was gone, leaving both Clary and Alec utterly bemused in his wake.


	4. Toga

**Hello my lovelies. Thank you for reviewing—it's very much appreciated! This chapter is based heavily on **_**Kissed**_** which is an extra by Cassandra Clare, rather than a scene from the books. One of the dialogue exchanges is exactly the same, because I thought it was just too adorable and important to miss out—but obviously, it all belongs to her (sadly.). Otherwise, this is close but not identical to the scene you'll read there, with one obvious change.**

_What are you doing here. Why are you doing this? This is ridiculous. Turn around right now, Alec. Right now._

As he started up at the imposing old warehouse, he felt his heart leap into his throat. What _was_ he thinking. Magnus had probably been joking when he'd said they should visit; or maybe he really had intended Clary to come rather than Alec, and Alec had misread the situation completely.

_Then again,_ a small voice in the back of his mind whispered. _He wasn't exactly subtle. And Izzy did say..._

Well, Izzy said a lot of things. Maybe he should just...

_Coward. Don't be a baby._

Wait, when on earth had he let _Jace_ into his thought process?

_Go on. You know you want to..._

Taking a deep breath, he reached out and pressed the buzzer.

There was a brief pause, and then an awful crackling screeched out of the speaker, making Alec jump in alarm.

"_Who goes there?"_ Magnus disembodied and distorted voice come through, sounding remarkably like a video-game gatekeeper.

"Um... it's Alec. Alec Lightwood?"

There was a brief pause, and for a horrible moment Alec thought that Magnus might send him away. Then, there was a buzzing sound, and the light above the door turned green. With a sigh of relief, Alec let himself through, and made his way up the stairs.

When he got to the second floor, he found that the door was already open, and Magnus was leaning against the frame, arms folded and one eyebrow raised.

He was also wearing a toga. Alec didn't even know why he was surprised, at this stage.

"Well well well." He said, narrowing his eyes. "This is a surprise, Alexander. A pleasant one, I'll grant you, but a surprise nonetheless. Is there any particular reason for your visit?"

"You told me to call you."

Magnus blinked. "Yes... I suppose I did. Of course, I _did _expect that you might, I don't know... own a phone?"

Alec shuffled uneasily. "You didn't give me your number. You gave _Clary_ your number, and then the other day you said... I'm sorry, I shouldn't..."

He fell silent. Magnus was smiling, a small smile, though it looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"I never said it was a problem. Please, come in..."

He turned without another word, and wandered into his apartment—which Alec took as his cue to follow.

He wasn't sure what to expect when he entered—and even then, he managed to feel surprised. It was a strange mishmash of every type of decor imaginable: There was a sofa that looked like it must be a Victorian antique, a tall lamp with a neon green leopard print shade on it, a carpet featuring a pattern of rocket ships that _must_ have been intended for children, and a red pot with full of paintbrushes inexplicably sat on top of the television.

"Do you paint?" He asked. Perhaps this man was not only an actor and a forger, but an artist as well. Magnus looked bemused for a moment—and then, seeing where he was looking, laughed.

"From time to time. I've absolutely no talent for it whatsoever, but I like to imagine that I'm just tragically progressive where art is concerned... would you like some coffee?"

"Um... okay."

Alec sat himself on the old sofa, still looking around in amazement. Despite the eclectic nature of the place, somehow it _worked_; Magnus was obviously some kind of interior design genius. Nobody else could have made that combination of furniture and bright yellow walls work.

Magnus returned, depositing a cup of coffee into Alec's hands, and then flung himself down onto the chair opposite him.

"So," He said. "What exactly was it you wanted to call me about?"

"Um."

Alec was at a loss. What _had_ he wanted to speak to Magnus about? To ask him out? To tell him to stop flirting with him in front of everyone he knew?

_I really didn't think this through._

Magnus leant back, a mischievous glint in his green eyes. Alec suddenly realised that Magnus knew _exactly_ why he was there, and was enjoying watching him struggle.

"I met your sister yesterday." He said suddenly.

"Oh." Alec cursed himself for not having something more interesting to say. "When?"

"Just before I saw you. She's an interesting character."

Alec's heart dropped. "What did she say?"

"Nothing much. Her resemblance to your Mother is _striking_."

"I didn't know you knew my Mother."

Magnus shrugged. "Just a casual acquaintance. I know most of the big names in New York theatrics."

Alec nodded, but for some reason he felt a slight niggling at the back of his mind, as if Magnus' words had triggered a memory. And he had the oddest inkling that what he had said wasn't _true_.

"You don't really strike me as much of a performer." Magnus commented. "Your Jace, on the other hand, is another story. And Izzy..."

"She said you liked me."

"What?"

"Izzy. My sister. She told me you liked me. _Liked _me, liked me."

The small smile on Magnus's face spread into a full out grin. "_Liked _you liked you? How shocking! I can't imagine why she'd say such a thing."

"Jace said so too."

"Well, if Jace said it, it can't be wrong."

"Is it wrong? _Do _you like me?"

Magnus cocked his head to one side, looking at Alec through lashes that were longer that they had any right to be. "You aren't much like the rest of your family, are you?"

It wasn't really a question. "What do you mean?"

"The Lightwoods I've known in the past have always had a hidden agenda. Even those of you I've liked tend towards the dark, secretive and ever so slightly untrustworthy side of the spectrum. You on the other hand... I get the feeling you wouldn't be capable of hiding things, even if you wanted to."

"My family aren't secretive." Alec lied, automatically.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Do they know you're gay?" He asked, and his voice was far gentler than Alec could ever have expected it to be—yet still, his breath caught in his throat, and his stomach dropped through his shoes.

But it was already obvious—after all, that was why he was here.

"No... Well, Izzy knows."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Not Jace? He's your best friend, and he doesn't strike me as particularly-"

"No. No, he doesn't know. I don't want him to know."

A peculiar expression flitted across Magnus' face—but it was gone before Alec could identify it.

"Well, as an outsider looking in, I think your concern on that front might be misplaced. But I suppose I don't know him all that well."

Alec stared at him expectantly for a moment, before saying

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Do you like me?"

Magnus smiled. "Yes. Or at least, all the early signs are good. But I suppose I can't _really _know until I've spent more time with you. Does this Saturday sound good?"

Alec felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Really? You want to?"

"If you do."

"I... I think I do. No, I _do_, I just... I haven't really done anything like this before."

"Anything at all? Not even a kiss?"

Alec shook his head, cheeks heating slightly with embarrassment. "I just haven't really... Most people prefer Jace, or Izzy, or..."

"Well, it's a good job I'm not most people."

"I can see that." He said, gesturing around him, and was almost surprised to find that he was smiling. Magnus was about as far from _"most people"_ as it was possible to get.

Magnus seemed obscurely pleased. He jumped nimbly to his feet, placing his empty coffee mug down on the table. Alec set down his own mug, feeling slightly shamefaced. He hadn't drunk a single drop.

"In that case, it's settled." Magnus beamed (And Alec allowed himself to think how _good_ he looked when he smiled), pulling Alec to his feet. "Saturday it is?"

Alec nodded. "Saturday."

He allowed Magnus to lead him to the door, feeling strangely lightheaded.

"Oh," Magnus said, stopping abruptly and turning to him as they reached the door. "One last thing."

And then, without Alec being quite aware of how it had happened, Magnus was kissing him, his warm lips pressed against Alec's at once gently and firmly, his hands sliding softly to his waist.

Alec felt a jolt of surprised—which then melted into a feeling of electricity; a bombardment of different sensations and feelings which he could no more describe than control. His arms slipped around Magnus neck, and he pulled their bodies closer together—finally,_ finally_ allowing himself to appreciate how tall he was, the slight muscle in his arms, the fact that they seemed to fit perfectly together...

_Strange_, he thought almost idly. _I never thought my first kiss would be with someone wearing a toga. _

But then, these things never did quite work out as you expected them to.

All at once, Magnus moved away, a wide grin plastered across his face. "I suppose that qualifies as a first kiss, doesn't it?"

Alec nodded, feeling very dazed.

"Good." He reached forwards, and yanked the door open. "I'll see you on Saturday."

And before Alec knew what had happened, he was standing in the hall. The door shut behind him, leaving him only with time to ponder that, if he'd had it his way, he would have kissed Magnus again.


	5. Raphael Santiago

**Wow, guys, this one's a monster! This is the last major segment of plot before we get some serious Malec time. Enjoy!**

Clary stood gazing up at the old house, her heart pounding in her chest. So this was it. This was the place where she might just find her Mother—and her Father, too.

"This looks like the start of a crappy horror film," Simon muttered. "Starring: Gullible white kids number one, two and three. The only bit of this plot of interest to anyone is how brutally the creepy guy murders us, and in what order."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Thanks Simon."

"I think you'll find that that is actually not true. I am not gullible in the slightest; I am a master of self defence. No violent obsessive is going to take _me_ on and survive."

Simon shot him a very scathing look. "Dude," He said. "You're a ballet dancer. Not Jason Bourne."

Jace turned on him. "I'm sorry," He said. "What exactly are you doing here, again?"

Simon bristled. "I'm supporting Clary," He said. "Who, I might point out, I have known for years—whereas _you_ have only known her a few weeks. What about you, huh, Golden Boy? What's making _you_ stick around? I'm willing to bet it's not _loyalty-_"

Jace opened his mouth to retaliate, and Clary decided she had had enough.

"_Boys_," She snapped, stepping between them. "I don't particularly care _why_ you are here. I just want to find my Mom. Either you stop bickering like infants, or I leave you outside and do this myself. Do you understand?"

Jace smirked at her, and she wanted to slap him. Of _course_ he knew she wouldn't really go in there without him—she'd get herself killed—but did he really have to be so smug about it?

"Sorry Clary," Simon muttered, starting at the ground and kicking out viciously at a rock near his foot.

Clary nodded, and then turned to Jace. "And?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to call her bluff. _Go on then. Go in without me. See how long you last._

But he just smiled, a smile that was stranger than any she had seen on his face before; without irony, and almost involuntary

"I promise not to bicker with your pet nerd." He said solemnly, placing his right hand on his heart. "Now and forever, in sickness and in health-"

Clary hit him on the arm.

"Can we just... get on with it?"

Jace grinned, and his usual sharpness had returned to his face. "Of course."

And with that, he set off towards the gate that lead into the garden, and Clary only had time to think about how he hadn't even questioned going first before her feet were following him, and she was pulling through long grass into the garden behind.

It wasn't much of a garden, that much had to be said. There were more weeds than grass, and huge patches of barren land marked the earth as though it had been scorched. The place had clearly been abandoned for generations.

Why on earth would Valentine and her Mother have wanted to spend time _here_?

Before she had really had time to question, Jace had pulled aside one of the boards covering the windows and was offering her his hands to stand on.

"Thanks," she murmured, not really thinking—and a moment later, they were both through, gazing around the grubby interior of the place.

"Wow, guys," Simon called from outside. "Thanks for the help."

"If you can't get through there, you won't be able to help us much in here." Jace jeered at him.

"It's covered in broken glass, I... I'm not as agile as you!"

"Jace..." Clary implored. He looked at her, his golden eyes flashing in the gloom.

"I can't lift him." He said simply, and turned on his heel, stalking off into the house.

Clary stared after him in terror.

"Please, Simon, just... stay here." She whispered, creeping slightly closer to the window. "Keep watch, and shout for us if anyone comes by. Please, Simon."

She could picture his face in her mind; the anger that would no doubt be there, and the hurt. But what could she do? She couldn't do this without Jace, she was sure of that...

And she could do it without Simon. There was really no choice to make.

"I'll be here." He grumbled, and she almost gasped in relief.

"Thank you," She breathed. "Thank you so much."

And with that, she stumbled after Jace, her heart in her mouth.

She caught up with him half way up the stairs, using the light from the torch he was carrying to navigate her way around broken bottles and all manner of broken things that she didn't want to identify.

"This feels... wrong." She whispered. "I don't think anyone has been here for months."

Jace nodded, staring ahead of them intently. "At least, not anyone like Valentine Morgenstern. I've been doing a little research into the guy. Everyone who knew him at the time told me he was an obsessive; he couldn't stand disorder, he hated being out of control. This place would have been hell to him. I don't think he's been here in a long time—if he ever came here at all..."

"Then why would Magnus tell us he was...?"

"Magnus told us what he believed to be the truth. Which means someone he's in contact with is lying to protect Valentine. Or, Magnus lied to us, and he knows more than he's letting on." Jace shrugged. "It could be either."

"Magnus doesn't strike me as dishonest."

"Clary, he lied to you for nine years straight. What more does he need to do?"

Clary opened her mouth, but her reply was cut off by the sound of a strangled shout coming from outside.

"Simon?"

The noise came again.

"That's Simon!" she gasped, turning frantically. "Jace, we have to go!"

"Clary, don't-"

But the hand which reached for her grasped at air. Clary was already gone, skidding off down the stairs, every part of her body screaming.

_Simon. Simon. Simon!_

She heard Jace behind her, cursing as he attempted to follow her trail of destruction—but she barely noticed.

_Simon. Simon. What are they doing to Simon?_

She reached the window they had climbed through, and flung the board aside, slicing her hands on the broken glass as she jumped through. She landed on one ankle in the long weeds, twisting the other, but the pain meant nothing to her. Simon. Where was Simon?

Jace was right behind her, calling to her, trying to make her slow down.

She ignored him. What did he know, that sharp, sarcastic boy, who hardly seemed to know kindness, and certainly did not know fear. How could he possibly understand what Simon meant to her?

She heard him scream again, and her stomach flipped.

"Simon!"

She ran through the garden, and turned around the corner of the house... and there they were. Two boys and a girl, all in their late teens, standing and laughing over the crumpled body of her friend.

They turned at the sound of her voice, their pretty faces drawn into leers.

"Get the hell away from him!" She half shouted, striding towards them.

One of them—a girl only a little older than Clary—laughed, hand on her hip.

"Oh, look, Mommy's come to save you," She pouted, putting on a mock baby voice. "I'm scared!"

"Back off, or I swear-"

"What? You'll do _what_, little girl?"

"Oh, she won't do anything. But I will."

Clary spun round, to see Jace advancing towards them, the heavy torch in his hand suddenly seeming much less innocuous than it had before.

For a moment, she saw doubt flicker in the girl's eyes. Then, it was gone.

"I know you, pretty boy. You _dance_, don't you?"

Jace smiled without mirth, light glancing off a razor blade. "Oh, I do. Amongst other things..."

Clary looked between the two of them, and then glanced down at Simon, who was twitching and groaning, but still very obviously conscious. _Thank God..._

One of the girl's cronies stepped forwards. He was very, _very_ large, much bigger than Jace, and Clary felt fear rise once again in her heart, choking her.

"Come on now, pretty boy. It's all very easy to threaten a girl. How do you feel about taking on someone your own size?"

"It would be my pleasure," Jace snarled, and raised the torch.

Clary was almost blinded by panic. What would she do, if Jace got hurt? Images flashed into her head of Jace lying beside Simon on the ground, of Jace twisted and bleeding, of Jace snapped between this huge boy's mighty hands...

"Enough!"

A cool voice sounded from behind them, and all of them turned to look.

A boy of around fifteen had crept soundlessly up behind them, and was now advancing slowly, his every movement fluid and measured. He had one of the most angelic faces Clary had ever seen; yet, despite his seeming innocence, there was a gravity about him, which was only accentuated by the fact that the other three were clearly terrified by him. The moment he appeared, they had stepped back from Simon, heads hanging and eyes shifting in shame.

"Who are you?" He demanded, looking at Jace. "And what are you doing on our land?"

"I am Jace Wayland." He announced. "And I was just about to give your three minions a good ass-kicking on your land. Who are _you_?"

Only Jace, she mused, could say those words and sound so honestly sure of himself.

"I am Raphael Santiago." The boy replied. "And I really don't think that will be necessary."

He nodded to the other three, and they took another step back.

"I don't want any trouble." Raphael said. "It's not worth the effort. But I am warning you, Jace Wayland, to get off my land. And do not come back."

Jace opened his mouth to retort, but Clary quickly stepped in.

"I don't think that will be a problem." She said, shooting him an acidic glare. "Please, just let us take our friend."

"Of course. You would be totally free, of course, to call the police the moment you leave here. But I'm warning you: You will regret it."

Clary nodded. "I won't. We won't. I promise. Please, please, just... let me have Simon."

Raphael stepped back, a cold smile on his face. "Be my guest."

And with that, he beckoned to the other three, and made his way across the garden and back into the house, none of them bothering to look back.

Clary immediately went to Simon. "Simon, Simon, I'm so sorry... are you okay? Simon?"

He groaned, and she was distressed to see that there was blood dribbling from his mouth.

Jace, somewhat unceremoniously, stooped and dragged him to his feet.

"He's not that badly hurt." He assured her, seeing her scandalised look. "He's just not used to it. We'll take him back to the Institute. Hodge can fix him up."

Clary nodded anxiously, then pulled Simon's other arm around her neck.

"I don't need any help." Jace said.

"I'm not trying to help _you_."

He didn't reply to that. "Let's just go."

Clary didn't need to be told twice.

Jace had missed practice for the third time that week, and Alec could tell that Hodge wasn't happy about it. He had to admit, he wasn't thrilled himself—it meant one thing, and one thing _only_: He was with Clary, again.

_What does he see in her?_ He wondered, bitterly, as he pulled on his regular shoes, ditching his dancer's gear for jeans and a T-shirt. _He's seen a thousand girls before her. What makes her so special?_

It was at that moment that Izzy stuck her head through his bedroom door, her pale skin flushed with excitement.

"They're back!"

"Who's back?"

"Jace! And Clary, and her friend, Simon! He's been beaten up pretty badly, and Jace and Clary are both cut around the hands..."

Alec was on his feet in moments, bolting after his sister and down the hall towards the hospital wing of the school

He pushed the doors open, and was greeted with the sight of Jace and Clary seated on one of the beds, both of their hands bound up—and a scrawny boy in a superman t-shirt lying in the other, sporting a black eye and a split lip.

Izzy immediately rushed over to him—she always enjoyed fussing around people when they got injured, for some reason—and started smothering his eye in salve, none too gently.

Alec stood in the doorway, glaring as hard as he could at the back of Clary's head.

_What the hell have you dragged him into now?_

Jace stood up, stuffing his injured hands into his pockets. He seemed angry about something—and he wasn't the only one.

"I'll see you later." He said, to no one in particular, and then marched out, only sparing Alec a passing exasperated eye roll as he went out.

_That does it._

"Clary," Alec said, through gritted teeth. "Can I talk to you, for a moment?"

She seemed surprised, but nodded. "Of course."

He took a deep breath, and led her outside, closing the heavy oak doors behind them.

The moment they were alone, he turned on her. "Why are you here, Clary?"

"What?"

"Why are you here?"

"I'm here... learning to dance. Going to school. Just like the rest of you."

"Shouldn't you be with your family? Your Mother is _missing_. Why aren't you at home?"

He was aware of how crazy he sounded, but he couldn't bring himself to care. _Why are you doing this to me?_

"I don't _have_ a home. As you've pointed out, my Mom is missing. The only other adult I have in my life has disappeared into the night, and doesn't seem to have any plans of coming back. My estranged Father might make an appearance at any moment and try to kidnap me. And what's more, I don't see why any of that matters, because I am _not_ required to explain my presence to you, Alec Lightwood!"

"I'm not asking you to explain your _presence_! I'm asking you to explain why... why you..."

"Why I _what?_" Clary's green eyes burned as she took a step closer to Alec. "Come on, Alec. What do you _really_ want to say to me?"

Alec struggled for a moment, trying desperately to hold back the words that were fighting to get out—but he couldn't.

"Why are you so desperate to have Jace with you everywhere you go? You've put him in _danger_, all for some wild goose chase! If the police can't find your Mom, why the _hell_ would you be able to? It's ridiculous, and childish, and selfish, and..."

He was running out of adjectives. He'd never been fantastic with words.

"Jace _wanted_ to come with me." Clary hissed. "I never asked him to come. And besides, Jace has told me about all the stuff you two get up to—this is no more dangerous or stupid than trying to jump between trees, or seeing who can hold on tightest to the top of a car—tell me, Alec, what's the difference?"

"The difference? The difference is that when I'm there, I can help him! I can get him out of trouble—what good are you? The difference is that I wasn't there!"

He was shouting, now. He was furious, and he couldn't hold it back—why _should_ he hold it back? If he were someone else, anyone else, he would just be able to say it. _I'm jealous. I'm jealous because he wants you, and not me._

But he couldn't say that, could he? And he was angry and hurt, and he wanted someone else to be angry and hurt too—because life wasn't fair; why should he be?

"_Please_," Clary spat. "This isn't about _protecting_ him! You're in love with him! That's what all this is _really_ about!"

Alec felt as if the floor had dropped out from underneath him. No, she couldn't know, she couldn't _possibly_ know... could she?

Unless it was obvious. Unless everyone knew...

"You're selfish, Alec Lightwood." She continued, venom lacing her voice as her eyes narrowed. "What, you can't have him, so no one can? That's not how it works, and you know it. You're in love with him, and-"

Alec acted without thinking. He grabbed Clary by the arms, pushing her into the brick wall behind them, with a force that surprised him.

"Don't say that," He said. "Don't you dare say that, ever, or I swear, I'll make you regret it."

Clary gasped.

And Alec realised what he was doing.

He let her go, stepping away, an apology rising immediately to his lips.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..._

But it wouldn't come out. He blinked, and then turned and stumbled off, cold fear and nausea gripping his heart.

_I'm sorry, Clary. I'm really sorry..._


	6. First Dates

**Hello m'lovelies! The first date is finally here. I'm very aware that there is a cannon version of this coming out in just over a week, and that it will be nothing like this, but I guess we have to have some artistic licence, right? Anyway, enjoy, and reviews are much appreciated!**

By the time Saturday rolled around, Alec had worked himself into such a state he was considering cancelling his date with Magnus.

How had Clary known how he felt about Jace? Was he so obvious that _anyone_ could see it?

Had she told Jace? Or _worse_, had Jace told her? Had he known all along, and just not mentioned it to Alec?

What if they all laughed about it, behind Alec's back?

_No_, he told himself. _Izzy would know. Izzy would tell me..._

Or would she? His sister could be brutally honest when she wanted to be, but often her instinct to protect her family overrode everything else. He had seen her lie to their younger brother, Max, a thousand times.

_What's the point in telling him,_ she'd said, _if it will only make him feel bad?_

Alec buried his head in his hands.

_This is terrible. _

He had been hiding out in this corner of the library since that morning, trying desperately to avoid Clary, and Jace, and anyone else who might come his way. It had been difficult—he and Jace shared a room; he'd had to sneak in once Jace was asleep, and get up before him in the morning.

_What on earth am I going to do?_

The obvious answer was to speak to Clary. He could apologise, and ask her exactly who knew, and how she'd found out. Calmly, and reasonably.

That, or yell at her and deny everything. Which seemed like the more likely outcome.

The second thing he knew he probably _should_ do was cancel his date. After all, it wasn't really fair to Magnus, to agree to see him when he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he was in love with Jace. And he wasn't sure he'd be able to concentrate anyway, what with everything that was going on...

"Alec!"

He looked up, his heart dropping into his shoes. Izzy was dodging her way around the tables, phone in one hand and bag in the other.

"Oh, hey, Iz."

"Where have you _been_? I haven't seen you since yesterday afternoon!"

"Oh, um... around..."

He glanced up at her as she pulled a chair out and sat down opposite him. There was nothing in her demeanour to suggest there was anything amiss; if there was one thing you could always count on with Izzy, it was her flair for the dramatic. Surely, if anything had happened, she would have been in far more of a state than this?

"How's Simon?" he asked, without much interest.

"What? Oh, he's fine. Just a black eye and a few bruises—I think he's just being dramatic to try and keep Clary away from Jace. Speaking of which; what the hell happened with you two yesterday?

"Me and who?"

"You and Clary! You went out of the medical room, and then I heard shouting, and a few moments later Clary stormed back in looking _furious —_and you disappeared. I thought, maybe..."

"You thought what?"

"That... maybe it was about Jace."

Alec sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. Part of him screamed not to tell her, the part of him that was his parents; that knew that Lightwoods didn't _need_ to share their burdens. _Just lie_ it whispered. _Just lie._

But another part of him knew that if he didn't talk to _someone_, he would lose his mind. In fact, without Izzy, he might have lost it long ago. He could trust her, if he could trust anyone...

And besides, as Magnus had said, he wasn't _like_ the rest of his family. He couldn't hide his emotions like they could, couldn't lie when it suited him. He couldn't even hide his attraction from a complete stranger for _five minutes,_ for crying out loud!

What would be the harm in telling Izzy? It was likely that she would find out pretty soon anyway.

"Yes," He said. "Yes, it was about Jace. Clary _knows_, Iz, she knows that I... how I..."

"I know she does."

Alec blinked. "What?"

"She asked me about it, a few weeks ago."

"And you _told_ her?!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do? She wasn't trying to be unkind—I don't think she realised it was a problem. She said she wouldn't tell anyone."

"Not Jace?"

"No! Especially not Jace. Alec, seriously, you need to relax. Clary is pretty nice, I don't think she'd do anything like that. Why would she?"

Alec looked away.

"Alec?"

"What?"

Izzy leant away from the table, her dark eyes unreadable, arms folded across her chest. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing! Only... Only that she should stop making Jace skip practice! And stop putting him in danger!"

Izzy rolled her eyes. "For goodness sake! Alec, you know better than anyone that nobody can _make_ Jace do anything. He does what he wants. You need to just accept that he likes her. And if it hadn't been her, it would have been some other girl. She's done nothing wrong."

Alec said nothing, staring stonily at the books behind her head. He knew she was right—but he didn't _want _to know. He wanted to feel angry, and it was so much easier to hate Clary than to admit the truth: That he was scared, and he hated it, hated that he was such a coward. That he hated _himself_.

"So, uhh, have you seen that Magnus guy recently?" Izzy asked casually.

Alec looked at her. "Yes, actually."

Her eyebrows shot up, and a wide grin spread over her face. "Really?! When? What did he say to you? Are you going to see him again? Oh my god, Alec, this is so great!"

"Izzy! Calm down, it's not that exciting. I'm supposed to see him tonight. But I don't think I want to. The only problem is, I don't have his number, so I can't cancel."

"Why on earth don't you want to?"

"I don't know..."

"Do you not like him?"

Alec thought about it. He thought about the strange furniture arrangement at Magnus' apartment; about Magnus' voice; about the way his lips had felt against Alec's, the jolt of electricity that had run through him...

"No, it's not that." He said. "It's just..."

Izzy raised an eyebrow. "Jace? Alec, tell me this isn't about Jace."

He shrugged. "Amongst other things."

Izzy, much to his surprise, brought her hand down on the table with a loud bang, making several people around them turn their heads in surprise. "Alexander Gideon Lightwood, you are a _fool_."

"Shh!" Alec hissed, feeling his face flush.

"Don't _shh _me!" She protested, but thankfully lowered her voice. "But I mean it! You'd be an idiot not to try this with Magnus because you're mooning over Jace. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work, but you have to try!"

Alec glanced around, still nervous that people might be listening in. Once he was confident that they weren't, he leaned in closer to her and said,

"I don't even know what time to meet him. He didn't say."

"That would be six o'clock, outside his apartment."

"Six? Wait, what?! How do you know?!"

A mischievous grin spread over Izzy's face. "_You_ may not have his number, but that's not to say I don't!"

"Izzy!"

Alec wasn't sure whether to be horrified or amused. Of course, he should have known.

"What have you said to him?"

"Nothing! I _actually_ messaged him about Clary and Jace yesterday, to see if he knew where they were. I only mentioned you as a very casual aside."

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

"Of course I am. And what would you do without me? Now, go and get ready! I'm going to have to check you over before you leave. You've got the dress sense of a colour blind giraffe."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Alec to wonder whether giraffe's really did have bad taste in clothes, and if so, how on earth anyone was supposed to know.

Two and a half hours later, he found himself once again at the front of Magnus' building, his heart thudding loudly and his palms sweating.

Trying not to think too hard, he pressed the buzzer for Magnus apartment, and was immediately let through.

When he reached the top of the stairs, Magnus was already waiting for him once again.

"Alexander," He smiled. "You're early."

"Oh, um... sorry."

Magnus had really toned down his look usual look for tonight, Alec noted. He was wearing black trousers, and a blue shirt under a (Dark) purple jacket. Even his hair and makeup had been reduced to a bare minimum.

Alec had to admit he was slightly relieved.

"It's not a problem. Whilst I must admit I'm more of a "fashionably late" man myself, I did slightly foresee this turn of events. Just give me a minute to grab my coat..."

Alec nodded, unsure of what to say, as Magnus disappeared back inside. A moment later, he reappeared, sporting a very normal looking black trench coat.

"Where are we going?" Alec asked, looking down at his own black jeans and jumper. Izzy had spent half an hour trying to coax him into something "a little less depressing", but had eventually declared him a lost cause. He hoped it wouldn't be anywhere too fancy.

Magnus grinned at him. "Oh, nowhere special."

The look on his face didn't exactly fill Alec with confidence.

They caught a taxi through New York, during which Magnus quizzed him on his favourite genres of music and film. Alec could feel himself beginning to relax—Magnus was easy to talk to.

He also seemed far more content talking about Alec than about himself; which would have been fine, if Alec had been a bit more interesting. He was sure that Magnus probably had far more interesting things to say than he did—but he allowed himself to get caught up in Magnus apparent interest in his life. After all, it probably wouldn't last all that long.

Eventually, the taxi pulled up outside a familiar Italian restaurant, about twenty minutes from the Institute.

"I know this place!" Alec exclaimed.

Magnus smiled. "I know. Your sister told me you liked it here?"

"I do. Wait, what exactly did Izzy tell you?"

"Oh, only a few things. Where we should go, what time, what we should name our children..."

Alec stared at him. "She _didn't_."

Magnus laughed, slamming the taxi door shut behind him, and extending a hand to Alec—which he somewhat hesitantly took. "Of course not! She told me you were gullible, and that I should have some fun with it. I can see what she means."

"Oh." Alec could feel himself reddening slightly. "It's just, I know my sister, and that sounds like _exactly_ the sort of thing she would say. She can be very... blunt."

"Well, that's not necessarily a bad thing."

By this time, they had entered the restaurant, and Alec was immediately assailed by the scent of garlic and tomatoes.

"This reminds me of when my brother was born." He told Magnus, as they were escorted to their table. "My Mom used to take us here—me, Izzy and Jace—and leave Dad at home with him. It was her way of getting a break."

"I didn't realise you had another brother." Magnus said, and Alec noticed that he was tracing the pattern on the tablecloth was one of his ringed fingers. He was also wearing black, sparkly nail polish.

"His name's Max. He's only nine, that why you wouldn't have seen him around the Institute..."

"Does he want to dance, too?"

Alec shrugged. "It's not really a question, in our family. Izzy once told our parents that she'd rather do modern dance than ballet, and they ended up having a major fight about it. They're quite... traditional."

_That's one way of putting it._

Magnus nodded, his face blank, but Alec thought he detected a hint of sympathy in his green eyes.

"What about you?" Alec asked, trying to change the subject. "Did your parents approve of you acting?"

Magnus shrugged. "It's been quite a recent decision, actually. The only thing I ever wanted to be when I was younger was a wizard. I suppose I've always been fairly ambitious."

Alec laughed. "When I was four, I told my Mom I wanted to be the moon. So I don't think you were being too unrealistic."

"The moon? Why?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"I can see it, actually. You're pale enough for it..."

Magnus reached out, and touched Alec's cheek, so lightly he could barely feel it—yet it sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

"Sirs? Are you ready to order?"

Alec sat back so fast he very nearly got whiplash.

"Yes, thank you," Magnus smiled, shooting Alec an amused look.

Alec smiled sheepishly back, silently cursing himself.

_Just relax._ He told himself. _Nothing bad is going to happen. They already know we're here together._

Yet somehow, it was more difficult to believe than it seemed.

Dinner passed without any hitches; aside from that Alec had to chose something new to order (his usual favourite dish contained copious amounts of garlic.) They had moved onto dessert, and Magnus was telling Alec about the time he had had to escape from the Egyptian police by hiding on a wine merchant's cart, when Magnus' phone began to ring.

Magnus checked the display, and then rolled his eyes in irritation. "I'm sorry," He said. "I have to take this. I'll only be a moment."

Alec nodded, just eager for Magnus to answer so that people would stop looking at them (For some incomprehensible reason, he had chosen to have "The Crazy Frog" as his ringtone.), and he disappeared outside to talk.

Alec took the opportunity to check his own phone.

_Thirty Six text messages from: Isabelle._

Well, no surprises there.

_Thirteen missed calls from: Isabelle._

Alec frowned. That was unusual—although, knowing his sister, it could mean anything from "The Institute is on fire" to "I don't know where the Microwave is".

He started to scroll through her texts.

_Alec! How's it going? xoxoxox_

_Alec! Answer your phone!_

_Alec you need to leave! _

_ALEC THIS IS AN EMERGENCY_

_WHY DON'T YOU EVER CHECK YOUR PHONE_

_ARE YOU STILL IN THE RESTAURANT?!_

_If you've left and are busy having a hot make out session with Magnus then ignore this_

_ALEC_

_ANSWER. YOUR. PHONE._

It went on in much the same way. All of them, with the exception of the first, had been sent within the last fifteen minutes.

"What the hell?" He murmured.

He hit "Return Call" and waited, his eyes fixed on the door as he awaited Magnus' return.

She didn't answer.

_It can't be that urgent._ He told himself, trying not to worry as he put the phone away.

Magnus came back only a minute later, a small crease appearing between his eyes as he caught sight of Alec's expression.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing, just... my sister seems to be freaking out about something, is all."

"Did she say what?"

"No, she just left me thirty five messages demanding I call her, but she didn't actually answer when I did."

"Maybe it's sorted itself out?"

"She wanted us to leave the restaurant?"

"Perhaps she needs your help with something... and Alec, I don't want you to panic."

"What?"

"Don't turn around."

Alec immediately turned his head, and wished he hadn't.

"Oh my God."

Standing in the waiting area were his parents, very overdressed, and looking thoroughly worn out.

Alec turned back to Magnus, panic coursing through his veins.

"Magnus, they can't see us here. They just can't. Oh my God. We need to leave."

"Alec, Alec, calm down..."

"What are they _doing_ here? They're supposed to be going to that fancy French restaurant across town, Izzy asked them..."

"Alec, it's fine. I'll get the bill, and we'll leave discreetly. They won't see us..."

"They will. My Mom has eyes like a hawk. Oh my God..."

He watched, unable to tear his eyes away, as the waiter guided his parents to a table not too far from their own.

"Shit." He muttered. "Shit shit shit..."

He lowered his head, trying desperately to stay out of their line of sight.

Magnus signalled the waiter, his expression unreadable, and quickly paid the bill.

"Okay." He said. "Don't. Panic. We'll stand up, very quickly, and go around that other table to the door. Do you see?"

Alec nodded, heart in his mouth.

Magnus reached out, and squeezed his hand comfortingly under the table.

"Let's go."

They stood up, making as little noise as possible, and began to skirt their way around the edge of the restaurant, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Thankfully, his parents seemed to be deep in conversation about something; Alec could tell from the way his Mother's nose wrinkled slightly as she talked. They reached the counter, nodded their thanks to the waiters, and then almost ran out of the door.

The moment they were outside, Magnus hailed a taxi—and within a minute, they were speeding away, back towards the Institute.

"I'm sorry," Alec breathed, after a short pause. "I just couldn't risk... they can't know..."

Magnus nodded, and Alec was relieved to see he did not look angry or offended; only a little... sad.

"Are you sure they would mind?" He asked.

Alec nodded. "Like I said, they're not very open to anything other than traditional. They're not restrictive about a lot of things, but relationships... they get angry enough at Izzy and Jace."

Magnus chuckled. "Yes, I can imagine they're hardly the model of good decorum when it comes to romance."

Alec smiled, in spite of himself. "You could say that. I think they rely on me to set a good example for Max."

"And I would not be a good example?"

"Not even slightly. You're an actor, for one thing. They really don't like actors."

"That's a shame. I could pretend to be a dancer for them, if you'd like?"

"Amazingly enough, that probably would help."

They pulled up about a street away from the Institute.

"I would walk you home, but I'm guessing you'd prefer that I didn't?" Magnus asked, dryly.

Alec smiled apologetically. "Sorry. And thank you for Dinner, by the way. I almost forgot, after all that."

Magnus waved his hand. "Don't mention it."

A silence fell between the two of them.

_Great. _Alec thought. _I've really messed this up. Nobody wants to date someone who's too terrified of their parents to even—_

He was cut off from his thoughts by Magnus' lips crashing against his own. He gasped in surprise, but couldn't help but respond, eyes closing and mouth moving in sync with the other man's.

It was more urgent than the first time they'd kissed, and more energetic; hands moved into each other's hair, and Alec felt himself going weak at the knees.

Eventually, Magnus pulled away, and Alec was relieved to see that he was grinning.

"Get my number off your sister." He said. "I already have yours."

"I will." Alec said, still feeling slightly disorientated.

"Good night." Magnus said, and leant in to kiss him again—softly this time, and only for a moment, before he turned and sauntered away down the street.

Alec stared after him for a good minute, before making his own way back to the Institute.

No matter what her flaws, he had to admit, his sister was right sometimes. In spite of everything that had happened, he was glad that he had gone out with Magnus that night.


	7. The Merchant of Venice

Magnus Bane had never appreciated being woken up early.

He was a night owl. He had no problem staying up until the small hours, performing or partying or reading—provided he be left in peace once morning came.

So, the obnoxiously loud phone ringing at eight thirty on a Sunday morning was not much appreciated.

"Alright, alright!" He shouted, pulling himself out of bed and falling into his dressing gown (which was purple, hugely fluffy, and embroidered with thousands of tiny lions.) , grumbling to himself as he made his way to answer it. "Who is it?"

For a moment—one, tiny moment—he felt a strange, irrational hope that it might be Alec. After all, Magnus had told him to call...

But, of course, it wasn't.

"Hello? Magnus?"

Magnus sighed as he recognised the voice of his long time friend and agent, Catarina Loss.

"Catarina, my darling. How may I help you this very fine day?"

"Well, there's no need to sound so disappointed about it." Catarina huffed. "Who were you _hoping_ it would be?"

"No one. Nobody at all."

"Hmm." Catarina didn't sound at all convinced, but she wasn't the sort of person to pry. Not when there was business to attend to. "Well, whoever they are, don't let it distract you. I have got you the offer of a lifetime."

"Oh really? And what would that be?"

"A film role. A _major_ film role. It's some modern retelling of _The Merchant of Venice_; I managed to wrangle you an audition for not only Bassanio, but Antonio too."

"Well, I can't play them both at once."

"_Magnus_."

"Sorry. That sounds... interesting, although I have to confess, I always saw myself as more of a Portia. Who else is up for the role?"

"Ragnor."

"Of course."

"Lots of other big names in the business, but a surprising amount of newcomers. I think they're looking for break out stars. Either way, you're one of the oldest people who'd be auditioning, but you look much younger than you are. And there's hardly a set age limit on Shakespearean characters."

"That's true. They age Romeo and Juliet up a bit more with every film they make."

"Well, it has to be palatable, I suppose."

"And when is it, this big audition?"

"A week today. I'll get you a copy of the script in the next few days. Now, Magnus, I hate to say it, but I worked my ass off to get you this audition. Please don't..."

"Don't what?"

"You _know_ what."

Magnus grinned. He knew exactly the incident which she was referring to.

"I promise not to engage in any professional disagreements over the portrayals of various characters, in spite of how racist, homophobic or misogynist they might be. I solemnly swear not to make any rude remarks regarding the state of the director's nasal hair, or anything to that effect. I assure you that I will not—under any circumstances—wear the jeans with "Kiss My Ass" written upon precisely that area."

"I should hope not. Honestly, Magnus, if you were anyone else..."

"Ah, but I'm not anyone else, clearly. You can't honestly say you think I should just be a doormat; that I should accept any role I'm offered regardless of my own feelings about the morality of the part."

"Of course not, but... Get famous, and _then_ be moral about the characters you pick. You'll do more good in the long run. This industry was not designed for the principled."

"You're telling me."

Magnus was no longer listening, but was idly twirling a piece of string around his fingers, thinking back to the night before. He remembered the way Alec's eyes had looked in the dim light; his shy, uncomfortable movements; his heartfelt smiles...

The panic in those same eyes when he'd seen his parents. The way the blood had drained from his face, how his hands had shaken...

_What are you doing, Magnus? _

Alec was only eighteen—almost ten years Magnus' junior, and _clearly_ not ready to be out of the closet any time soon. He was a Lightwood: Magnus was sure Maryse and Robert were two of the most obnoxious people he'd ever had the misfortune to come across, and he was in no hurry to repeat the experience. And worst of all, it was quite obvious to Magnus that Alec had a crush on Jace, his adoptive brother. What was the point of seeing someone for whom you were only a second choice? Magnus had always tried his best to avoid those situations; and yet...

And yet, there was something about Alec. Something in the depths of those dark eyes that spoke to Magnus of hope, of reassurance. He didn't know what it was; but there was _something_ that told him to ignore his misgivings, to just see Alec at least _once _more...

"Magnus?"

He jolted out of his daydreaming as Catarina's voice drifted down the phone.

"Yes, sorry."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, um... Principals. Particular principled persons with whom I am acquainted."

"Right." He could practically hear the eye roll. "What's her name?"

"Her?"

"His name, then."

Magnus struggled for a moment, but it was no good. Catarina had a way of getting things out of him. "Alexander Lightwood."

"Lightwood, as in the Ballet School?"

"The very same."

"Magnus..."

"I know, it's a terrible idea."

"Then why are you still seeing him?"

"I've only just started! I don't know, he's... Not like the other Lightwoods, that's for sure."

"How old is he?"

"Eighteen."

Catarina clucked her tongue. "Be careful, Magnus Bane. Be very careful."

"Of what? It's not like he's... Catarina? Hello? Catarina?"

But she had hung up on him.

Magnus shook his head in disbelief.

"That's what you get for sharing." He remarked to Chairman Meow, who was curled up peacefully on the armchair near the window. "Honestly, between Ragnor and Catarina, I don't know _how_ I..."

He was cut off by the sound of his phone beeping again.

_Text._

He hated how eagerly he reached for it, how his heart skipped a beat when he saw the name on the screen—he despised it, and he did not want it to stop.

_This is ridiculous._ He told himself. _You barely know him._

_I know enough_. Another voice whispered back. Magnus had had a lot of experience when it came to relationships; especially those of the failed variety. He knew, almost instantly, whether or not he would be compatible with someone, and all the signs were there with Alec. But somehow, it was even more than that; a fundamental instinct that told him to pursue this, to keep trying. It was strange, and new, and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it. Yet, he was trusting it all the same.

_Hi,_ the text read. _It's Alec. I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to get coffee or something later? Not if you're busy, obviously_

Magnus was unable to stop the slow grin spreading over his face. It was awkward, and shy—and he could almost _smell_ Isabelle's influence all over it—but, as always with Alec, it was utterly sincere.

Something about the tone made Magnus suspect that Alec was expecting a negative response. He was modest to the point that it was almost embarrassing.

_Sure,_ Magnus text back. _Meet at the corner of your street in an hour and a half? X_

There was a moment's pause, and then

_Sounds great! I'll see you there_

The smile on Magnus' face grew ever wider. He deposited his phone on the side, and retreated whistling back into his room to get ready. Chairman Meow, clearly not impressed by the Magnus' tone-deaf tune, hissed and jumped to his feet, but Magnus was in far too good a mood to care.

It hadn't even been a day, and Alec wanted to see him again. Surely, that had to be a good sign.


	8. Coffee

Sundays were family days in the Lightwood family. Or at least, they were supposed to be. Recently, Jace had been disappearing a lot to spend time with Clary, and Izzy had been going _somewhere_—Alec had no idea where—and Robert had been working late for the production, so they hadn't been much of a family at all.

This Sunday, however, was different. They all sat around the table together for Breakfast, Robert with his nose buried in the newspaper, and laughed and chatted with each other.

Like a proper family. Almost.

"Jace, have you been practicing for the production?" Maryse asked, her tone clipped and her brows drawn together. "You seem to have been... out... an awful lot."

Jace shrugged, nonchalant as ever. "I don't need to practice." He said, without so much as a hint of irony.

Alec couldn't help but laugh. _Nobody but Jace... _

Maryse merely looked irritated. "Everyone needs to practice, Jace. Even you. Otherwise, you run the risk of getting replaced."

Jace snorted. "There's no one else in the school who can dance that role. You know that."

Maryse raised an eyebrow. "Not currently, no. But we have a new pupil starting next week—Sebastian Verlac. I have been reliably informed that he is one of the most talented young dancers in France; and believe me Jace, if you don't start showing some more dedication, I won't hesitate to replace you with him."

Jace looked unconcerned. "Well, that's your mistake to make. Besides, it's not as if I've been doing nothing. I've been training Clary."

Robert peered over the top of his paper, frowning. "I thought it was Alec's job to train Clary."

All eyes turned to him. Alec flushed pink, remembering his unresolved fight with Clary on Thursday. "Um, well, it's just... She wanted... She prefers being trained by Jace."

"As any sane person would."

"That's not the point. We instructed _you _to train her. Did you not get on with her?"

"Well..."

Alec cast around desperately, trying to think of some kind of excuse or explanation, something that he could say that would not be questioned too closely or remembered. He wished he were a better liar.

He caught Izzy's eye, trying to scream _Help me_ with one glance.

"Clary likes Jace." Izzy announced, leaning forwards conspiratorially.

Both their parents rolled their eyes. "That much is obvious." Maryse said, with a small smile, and a glance at Jace that caused a small pang in Alec's chest.

_Because Jace likes her too. And Jace never likes anybody._

Last night, when he'd been out with Magnus, it had been surprisingly easy to forget about Jace. But back here, with his family, it was so much harder.

"It doesn't matter if she likes him." Robert was saying. "Jace needs to practice his own role. Alec, tomorrow you will go and find Clary, and tell her you're training her again. That's the end of it."

Alec nodded, even as he felt his heart sinking in his chest. In truth, he was seriously regretting all the things he'd said to Clary, and had been looking for a way to apologise ever since it had become clear that she hadn't told anyone about it.

He knew, better than most people, that Jace did as he liked. And if he wanted Clary, then... There was nothing anyone else would be able to do to stop it.

Least of all him.

_And why should I?_ He scolded himself. _He's my best friend. I should want him to be happy. I do want him to be happy. With whoever he chooses._

"Dancing is about discipline." Robert continued. "You can't let yourself get complacent. Now let me tell you, there are a lot of people in this world who underestimate Ballet—especially Male dancers. They think we're weird, and gay. The truth is, ballet is one of the most difficult and technical professions out there. You can't be weak. Not even a little."

Alec looked away. But not before he caught Izzy's sideways glance at him, and his Mother's glazed expression; Max's eyes wide behind his glasses, and Jace looking down at his phone.

He wondered what Magnus might have responded to that. Something cutting and intelligent, he was sure. The sort of thing Jace might say; if Jace was paying attention.

_If Jace cares._

He wished he could have some warning. He wished his Father would think, just a little harder. He wished a lot of things.

"That's nice, darling." Maryse said, wanly.

"What's gay?" Max inquired, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Robert opened his mouth to respond, and Alec decided it was probably time to go.

"I've got to go out." He interjected.

Maryse blinked. "Really? Where?"

"Um... somewhere?"

"Didn't you and Clary agree to an extra training session?" Isabelle smiled, giving her brother a _very _ pointed look.

"Yes! Yes, we did."

"Really?" Jace looked bemused. "I'm supposed to be training her later today."

"Uuh, I guess she's really trying to stay on top of things?"

"Yeah, but—_ouch!_ What was that for?!"

Jace glared at Izzy, who had clearly just kicked him under the table.

Maryse looked between the three of them, narrowing her eyes.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing! I just... I just really need to go! I'll see you later."

And before they could utter another word, he fled, grabbing his coat and phone on his way out the door.

He text Magnus as he hurried down the street, past the tall spires of the Institute, his Father's words still ringing in his ears.

_They think we're weird and gay._

_You can't be weak. Not even a little._

He was vaguely aware that it might seem a little over-eager to text Magnus _the morning after_ their first date, but it was hard to care. He liked Magnus; he made him feel strangely alive.

Magnus responded with encouraging speed, but left Alec with an hour and a half to kill by himself.

That was easy enough. There was a park near where they were supposed to be meeting; he could probably find somewhere there to hide out.

As it was, he ended up lying down under a tree, enjoying what was bound to be the last few hours of summer sunshine before the winter set in. He knew it was only morning, but he was tired—so tired, and it was just so warm there, in the grass beneath the tree.

Perhaps if he just closed his eyes for a second, it wouldn't do any harm...

The next thing he was aware of was someone whispering "Alec. Alexander. Wake up."

For a moment, he was confused. Then, a dim horror rushed through him, waking him up with a start.

_Magnus. It's Magnus. _

His eyes flew open with a start, and he leapt back, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry..." He stammered, looking around frantically. Magnus was kneeling in front of him, a small smile playing around his mouth.

"Don't apologise." He said. "Although, I have to say, I'm quite offended that you chose to sleep through our date."

"Sleep _through_...? What... what time is it?"

Magnus laughed. "Only twelve."

Alec groaned. "I can't believe I fell asleep. I wasn't planning to, I swear, I just..."

Magnus shrugged. "I understand. The roots of trees are very comfortable napping spots."

"This is so embarrassing. I'm sorry, you must have thought...How did you find me?"

"Well, at first I did think I might have been stood up. But, as I was leaving, I caught sight of some kids putting sticks in someone's hair." Magnus grinned, and reached forwards, carefully pulling a twig out of Alec's fringe. "When I took a closer look—without any intention of joining in, of course—I realised it was you."

"Where did the kids go?"

"They ran off the moment they saw me. Adults tend to have that effect on children."

Magnus reached up, and pulled another stick out of Alec's hair. There was something so tender about the movement, that Alec felt himself blushing.

Magnus—who really was far more observant than he had any right to be—clearly noticed this, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "What do you say," He began, leaning a little closer. "We skip the coffee, and just stay here?"

Alec peered around Magnus shoulder, anxiously—but there was nobody in sight. At least, nobody close enough to really see them, shielded as they were by the trunk of the tree.

"I think I could live with that." He said, and then pulled Magnus down to kiss him. Magnus responded enthusiastically, lowering himself onto Alec's body and wrapping his arms around Alec's neck. Alec couldn't help himself but slide his hands under Magnus shirt (which was velvet, and electric blue), feeling the warm skin and muscle underneath. Magnus seemed to approve of that—so Alec continued, and soon enough he felt Magnus' hands on his own skin, pushing his shirt up slightly as he traced patterns on his skin.

Some part of Alec's mind was still telling him that this was ridiculous, and a terrible idea—but that didn't stop him. It felt so good, so _right_, being there, with Magnus, and he didn't want to stop. And when Magnus' kisses descended to his neck, and the base of his throat, he didn't care that they would most likely leave a mark; a mark he would have to cover up or explain away. He would hide it; he would lie; he would tell them everything and not give a damn for the consequences.

Magnus bit down, and he gasped involuntarily. Someone in the distance shouted _"Get a room!"_ at them, and Alec couldn't help but laugh. Magnus pulled away and leant his forehead against Alec's, laughing too, and Alec wondered at how he hadn't noticed before how beautiful Magnus' smile could be.

_I like you_. He wanted to say. _I really like you. _

But he didn't get the chance; moments later, Magnus mouth crashed back down on his, and Alec's hands were in his hair, their legs tangling together in the long grass.

Magnus shifted slightly, so that they were lying side by side against the tree, and Alec noted (somewhat absently) that he was probably going to have grass stains all over him at the end of the day.

But he didn't care. He _couldn't _care.

When they finally broke apart—much later than they should have, and only because Alec wasn't sure they could continue any longer without things becoming _seriously _inappropriate—Magnus pulled him to his feet, and led him in search of the long-postponed coffee. 

"I'm telling you," He said, lacing his fingers through Alec's, "This is the best coffee shop in New York."

And it was. Though Alec couldn't be entirely sure if it was the coffee, or the company, or a combination of the two.

Magnus told him about his upcoming audition (Which Alec thought sounded _awful_), and then they began discussing the Ballet School, and the upcoming production. Alec noted, with some alarm, that whenever the conversation drifted near to Jace, Magnus would artfully steer it in some other direction: Izzy, Max, Russian History... It seemed like there was no tangent too removed for Magnus, but Alec couldn't help but worry.

_He doesn't know, does he?_

He cursed himself for his inability to hide his thoughts from people.

Did he even really like Jace, though? For so long, he'd believed that he was in love with him—that he always would be, and that nothing would ever come of it—that it seemed strange to consider that it might not be true. He loved being around Jace, certainly—after all, who didn't?—but there was something _different_ about being around Magnus. Something Alec couldn't quite explain.

He pushed the thought away. Of course he loved Jace. Even if it was pointless.

_It's pointless, and that's the whole point._

He kissed Magnus goodbye outside his apartment that evening; and it was long, and lingering, and a part of Alec begged him to stay, to forget everything else and just carry on kissing Magnus...

But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't—and what was more, Magnus knew it as well.

"Goodbye, Alexander." He said, with a rueful smile.

Alec blinked at him, slightly disorientated (And it was awful and wonderful, that kissing Magnus made him feel that way; that just being near him could made Alec forget where he was).

"Will I see you again?" He blurted out, before he could stop himself.

Magnus looked confused. "Do you _want _to see me again?"

Alec nodded.

"Well, then, it's settled." Magnus grinned. "You'll see me again."

"Really?"

"Really."

"When?"

Magnus shook his head, and winked at him.

"Now, Darling. That would be telling."

And with that, he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Alec remained there for a moment, swaying slightly, and trying to keep the smile off his face.

He failed miserably.


	9. Notes

**Hello everyone! I'm sorry there's been such a long gap between this and my last chapter—the build up to exams is starting, and I really do have to revise. Somebody requested more Clace—and hopefully this chapter should please on that front! I'm also going to start weaving in some Sizzy pretty soon, and then… Sebastian *noises of horror*. I was just wondering (since I forgot to put an Author's note on the last chapter) what people thought of the characterization of Robert. People always show him to be this raging, violent homophobe, and I'm not sure I agree; I think he's probably more the "casual ignorant comment" kind of guy, which is what I tried to show (not that that's any better…) Anyway, as always, reviews would be wonderful **

Clary could not, under any circumstances, have called herself a Mathematician. As Mr Malachi droned on at the front about surds and simplifications, she found her eyes blurring over and her mind drifting to other things, her pen drifting over the page of its own accord to draw spirals and faces.

She was very conscious of Alec sitting behind her, slumped in his seat as he always was, and very definitely not making eye contact with her.

Well, she hadn't _actually_ tried; the sense of shame she had felt ever since their argument wouldn't let her.

She knew that Alec had been out of line, talking to her how he had—but she was also very aware that she had been, too.

_There's a difference between being unreasonable and being cruel._ She scolded herself, bitterly. Alec had made her angry, but it had been clear from the look in his eyes that she'd terrified him—and now she felt awful.

What was more, if _Jace_ were ever to find out what she'd said to him… She shuddered to think about it. Whatever Jace might like to pretend, he was not unkind—in fact, she was beginning to think he might be exactly the opposite. And it was clear that he loved Alec—even if it wasn't in quite the same way that Alec loved him. She didn't want to know what he would think of her, if he knew…

Not that Alec was going to tell him, of course.

All at once, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She spun around, to see Alec watching her with his steady blue eyes, hand outstretched.

She gaped at him, and he smiled tentatively, before quickly pressing a folded square of paper into her hand.

She turned back to face the front, her heart pounding as she unfolded the note, ready to see scrawled accusations and threats, or—

_I'm sorry._

Clary blinked, astounded.

Hurriedly, she turned the paper over and scribbled _For what? _Before twisting and depositing it quickly on Alec's desk.

A few moments later, and he was handing it back.

_For what I said to you. It wasn't fair, to you or to Jace. I know he makes his own choices._

_I know but… What I said to you was much worse. I was just angry, and frustrated, and I took it out on you. It wasn't true at all._

This time, the note took much longer to come back. Clary assumed that Alec must be writing some kind of essay—but when he finally threw it (He really had remarkable aim) onto the desk in front of her, there were only a few words on it, surrounded by scribbling and crossing out.

_It was true. You were right about all of it._

Clary bit her lip, deliberating how to reply. Carefully, so as not to attract Mr Malachi's attention, she tore a new page out of her maths book, and began to write what she _hoped_ would be a good enough apology.

_Okay, so the part about you and Jace was true, but that doesn't mean it all was. I don't think you're selfish, for example. And in any case, it was unnecessary. I really am sorry. _

She passed it back, and waited. A few moments later, the neatly folded paper plopped down on her desk again, directly in front of her.

_So we both said some things we didn't mean. It happens, I guess. Why don't we just forget about it? I don't think I made an especially good first impression on you anyway. _

Clary felt herself smiling.

_I think that sounds like a great idea. I'll admit, I don't think I've ever met a surlier dance teacher than you were. Although I probably wasn't the best student. _

_You weren't the worst I've ever taught. That reminds me, my parents want me to take over your training again. Is that okay? I know you'd rather be with Jace._

Clary took out her pen, and was just about to reply, when a hand appeared in front of her and snatched the paper out from under her nose.

"You know," Mr Malachi said, regarding the two of them with a cold disdain. "I really do prefer it when people at least _attempt _to pay attention in my lessons, rather than blatantly passing notes to each other through their duration. Now, tell me, Mr Lightwood, would you rather I read these out to the whole class, or just took them to your parents?"

Alec had turned bright red. "I… I don't…"

Mr Malachi shook his head. "And what about you, Miss Fray? Would you be comfortable with the contents of these notes being shared with the entire class?"

"Not really." She said, looking him squarely in the eye. There was something about Mr Malachi that had made her take an instant dislike to him. Perhaps it was the simple fact that he was as boring as the whitewashed walls behind him—or maybe it was that he took such obvious pleasure in humiliating people.

"In which case, shouldn't it have waited until _after_ the lesson?" He sneered.

"It couldn't wait." Clary said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Mr Malachi raised an eyebrow. "I think," He said, taking a step back towards his desk, "That I should be the judge of that."

Around them there was stifled giggling. Clary turned to look at Alec, and saw that he had paled, his blue eyes wide in his white face.

"Sir, you _can't-_" She implored, but Mr Malachi silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"One more word," He said. "And I will send both of you—_and_ these notes—to see Mr and Mrs Lightwood. Understood?"

Clary hesitated, and then nodded, although she could feel the anger boiling up through her blood.

_How dare he? How can he do this?_

Even worse, she couldn't remember _exactly_ what they'd written. There was a good chance—a _very_ good chance—that at least one of them had made explicit reference to Alec being gay. And then what?

Would he read that out, in front of everyone? Or give it to Alec's parents?

_No. Surely not._

She watched with bated breath as Mr Malachi sat down at his desk, and began to scan through what they'd written. A small crease appeared between his brows as his eyes travelled down the page.

_Does he know which of us is which? He's been marking our work long enough by now to know our writing, hasn't he?_

Alec was clearly thinking exactly the same as she was. His eyes were fixed on Mr Malachi, unwavering as the other students whispered snide remarks.

Mr Malachi glanced up, and then looked between the two of them with narrowed eyes.

Then, he stood up, walked across the room and ripped the folded note in two, before dropping it into the recycling bin.

"Next time," He said. "Please save your tedious high school drama for _after_ the lesson."

Clary heaved a sigh of relief, and nodded enthusiastically, whilst Alec did the same.

Around them, their classmates looked in equal parts disappointed and impressed.

After the lesson, the two of them escaped together, before anyone could pester them to know _exactly _what they had written.

"Do you think he knows?" Alec asked, glancing back over his shoulder anxiously. "Do you think he realised?"

"I doubt it." Clary said, trying to be reassuring. "It probably just seems obvious to us, because we know what we were talking about. He probably didn't bother to read it out because it wouldn't have been interesting enough for everyone to laugh at us."

Alec nodded, but Clary could tell he wasn't convinced.

"Either way," She continued. "He's obviously not planning on telling anyone, right?"

"Right."

They had arrived at the dance studio, and Alec pushed the doors open with a violence that suggested serious stress. Clary was about to suggest they actually go and consult Mr Malachi about it—or rather, _she_ would go, and take Izzy with her (She was sure even teachers didn't argue with Isabelle Lightwood when she was angry)—when she caught sight of who was waiting for them in the studio.

Jace, leaning up against the window, his hair alternating black and pure gold as it caught light and shadows from the dying sun outside.

"Oh." She said. "I didn't think you'd be here."

He pushed himself upright, a grin spreading over his face. He looked softer somehow, in this light—less angular, less sharp.

"I thought I could probably skip one last day of practice." He said. His eyes flickered momentarily to Alec. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"I… don't." Alec said. He looked uncomfortable, shrugging the long sleeves of his jumper forward so that they covered his hands. "I'll see you later." He said, and then disappeared out of the doors again.

Clary watched him, wondering if she should go after him—but then Jace placed his hands on her shoulders, and it was suddenly difficult to concentrate on anything but his proximity, the feeling of his skin on hers.

"We were practicing the middle section." He reminded her, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "The lift?"

"Oh." She said, again. "Right. The bit where you nearly dropped me."

"I came nowhere close to dropping you!" He said, taking a step back and covering his heart as if she'd wounded him. "How could you even suggest such a thing?"

"I suggest it because it's the truth!" Clary said, trying to keep a straight face. "It felt like I was about to fall."

"Well, gravity will do that to you, you know."

"Oh, shut up Jace."

"Never."

All the while, he had been adjusting the positioning of her arms, making sure she was ready to be lifted.

"I promise I won't drop you." He said. "Are you ready?"

Clary steeled herself, and then nodded. All at once, she was in the air again, every muscle in her body working to support herself.

_This is horrible_. She thought. _The floor looks so far away. This is awful._

She thought about asking him to put her down—but she knew she'd never hear the end of it. That was the thing about working with Jace; she always felt driven to compete with him, to impress him—because he was absolutely insufferable if she didn't.

She closed her eyes, willing to have her feet back on solid ground…

And then, she was down, and looking up into Jace's eyes.

"That was good," He said. "Really good."

A strand of her hair had escaped from her bun. She'd had dance before Maths as well, and she hadn't bothered to take it down—now it seemed it was escaping of its own accord.

Jace reached forwards, and tucked it behind her ear.

"And that's even better." He said.

And then—without having planned it, without having any idea how it had happened—they were kissing, Clary standing on tiptoe as Jace crushed her against him, her hands disappearing into his hair.

His fingers tugged at the knot at the back of her head, and she felt her hair fall down past her shoulders. She gasped against his mouth—and all at once, he pulled away.

Clary stepped back, equal parts shocked and elated. Jace looked equally astonished himself.

"Just for the record." He said. "You don't have to do that during the actual performance."

Clary rolled her eyes, and hit him lightly on the arm—and he bent to kiss her again.


	10. Portia

**Hey guys! Sorry for the long gap between updates again—hopefully this will make up for it! As always, I don't own any of the characters, and reviews are very much appreciated This chapter is super long, so it's a little rushed in places. I'm sorry in advance**

Magnus sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him, script in his lap and fingers drumming impatiently at his sides. He had arrived an hour early—as always—to look over his script a few more times, and to find out where he was supposed to be going. Everything had gone smoothly— he had flown through the audition for Antonio without a hitch. Now, he was waiting for the second audition—for the part of Bassanio—which required him to have a partner, to play Portia.

Whoever she was, however, was fifteen minutes late. Magnus sighed irritably. This was why he hated auditioning with other people: They were so often _so_ unreliable.

What made matters _worse_ was that he hadn't heard from Alec in almost a week. Not so much as a brief answer phone message, or even a _text_…

He knew he shouldn't care so much. It was hardly as if they were in a serious relationship: People got cold feet about dating all the time. Alec had probably just been too polite to tell him he wasn't interested; that he was still too hung up on beautiful, impossible Jace to carry on seeing Magnus. Really, Magnus should just forget the whole thing. It wouldn't be anything he hadn't done before…

_He really did seem interested, though._ A small voice whispered in Magnus' head. _And it's not as if he's difficult to read. Just wait a few more days…_

Of course, Magnus could have tried to contact Alec himself. But he felt keenly the need to be careful with Alec—the sense that if he pushed him too far, he might be scared away…

_Maybe I should just text him. If he doesn't reply, I'll forget about him. I really will._

He almost laughed at that. He might be an actor, but fooling himself still proved as difficult as ever.

"Magnus?" A familiar, and highly incredulous voice said.

Magnus looked up, and found himself confronted by Isabelle Lightwood, clutching a script in one hand and what looked like a long piece of shimmering wire in the other. She was accompanied—somewhat inexplicably, in Magnus' eyes—by a very average looking boy, a little taller than she was, with dark hair and eyes. He looked slightly dazed, as if he wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up there, and didn't know if he was happy about it.

"Isabelle Lightwood." Magnus raised an eyebrow, and got to his feet. "Am I to take it that _you_ are my Portia?"

Izzy beamed, and held up her copy of the script, which was covered in highlighter and scrawling handwriting. "This is amazing! I had no idea it would be you!"

"Neither did I…" Magnus couldn't help but smile at her. She and Alec were almost as different as it seemed humanely possible to be; but he had to admit, he liked Izzy—admired her even.

Despite her obviously atrocious timekeeping skills.

"This is Simon." She said, waving vaguely at the boy behind her. "He's Clary's friend."

She said it like it explained everything. Simon lifted a hand in greeting, looking very uncomfortable.

"Well, that's great, and all," Magnus said, slowly. "But you are aware that you're twenty minutes late?"

Izzy nodded, and flung her hands in the air, golden bracelets jangling. "I had to sneak out of the Institute," She explained. "Mom and Dad don't know I'm here. They'd be _terribly_ disapproving if they did."

"Your parents seem to be terribly disapproving of a lot of things." Magnus said, giving her a steady look.

He saw something flicker in Izzy's dark, playful eyes; something that was not unlike sorrow, or regret. Izzy might play the carefree party animal, but Magnus knew there was more to her than that. She knew exactly what he meant.

"They are," She said giving him a small smile. "But I guess you can't choose your family."

Magnus was about to reply, when the door down the corridor opened, revealing a very irritable looking bald head, peering about him.

"Ah, you've arrived. _Finally." _He said, glaring at Isabelle. "Any longer and we would have just moved on."

Izzy looked unconcerned. "You know how it is," She smiled, and then didn't bother to elaborate further.

The man rolled his eyes. "Come on through then." He muttered.

Izzy spared Simon—Or was it Samuel?—a quick kiss on the cheek, before hurrying through the door.

Isabelle was an incredible actress. Magnus had expected her to be talented—she had a way about her, a certain confidence, that _promised_ talent, somehow—but the moment she started to recite her lines, he realised he was dealing with one of the best. The control she had over her expression, the ease with which she remembered her lines, it was astounding. For the first time he could remember, Magnus found himself actually _enjoying_ an audition: Izzy made it enjoyable. She made acting look easy in a way that few people her age could—that few people of _any_ age could—and what was more, she made it interesting, and charming while she did it.

Magnus could tell that the casting directors were impressed, too, despite her late arrival. And, to top it all, Izzy was beautiful. Magnus didn't doubt that she would break into the acting world with ease.

He could only think of one other person who was as natural an actress as Isabelle was. One person who was as beautiful, and charming. Blonde hair and green eyes flashed in his mind—but he pushed them away. Alec's sister was _nothing_ like Camille.

There was no time to talk with the directors afterwards, thanks to their late start, so Magnus and Izzy exited together, Izzy chatting away breathily all the while.

"That was _amazing_! You knew your lines really well. Does it get easier the more you do it? I always find it so hard to remember things. It's Alec who's got the memory in our family, not me. Do you think they liked it? I thought they liked it. I've always loved Portia; she's so together, and clever. She's smarter than all the men, that's for sure."

Magnus laughed. "She certainly is. And I'm sure they liked it. Your parents are crazy, not to let you go into acting. You're very talented."

He didn't say that she was bound to get the part; you never could tell, with acting. But he certainly thought she had a good chance. And he hoped, bizarrely enough, that he would get to work with her—as strange as it would be, having to act dating Alec's sister. He tried not to think about that too hard.

Izzy shrugged. "I'm a good dancer as well." She said, without a hint of self doubt. "I just prefer acting. I like to talk, you know? Ideally, I'd want to do both—Musical theatre, you know? But I can't sing to save my life."

Magnus didn't doubt she was telling the truth. They had reached Simon, who looked up at Izzy, expectantly.

"It was great seeing you, Magnus." Izzy said, sincerely—and then, much to his surprise, she flung her arms around his neck. _"Call Alec."_ She whispered in his ear.

Magnus blinked, and she pulled away.

"See you soon, I hope!" She grinned, and then was gone, tugging (probably) Simon along behind her.

Magnus stared after her bemusedly. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of her.

He didn't go straight home. Instead, he went to Central Park, and sat on one of the benches, flipping his phone back and forth in his hands.

Izzy had told him to call Alec. It wasn't like she didn't _know_ her brother; it was obvious the two of them were very close.

_Just do it. What's the worst that could happen?_

He hit the call button, and waited.

Alec answered on the fourth ring, sounding slightly breathless.

"Hello? Magnus?"

"Hello, Alexander." Magnus couldn't repress a smile. Alec sounded like he might well have run for his phone.

_Don't be ridiculous. He's probably just been training. He's a dancer, you idiot._

"How… how are you?" Alec said. "I thought maybe…"

"You thought what?"

"Never mind. How are you?"

"I'm… fine. Listen, I was wondering… would you like to do something tonight?"

"Um, I'd love to, but…"

Magnus waited for the inevitable. _"But I'm really busy. Maybe some other time? Except not really."_

"… I promised my parents I'd stay in. Jace both need to practice late, and they're at some sort of conference, and they don't really trust Izzy to keep an eye on him, so I can't go out…"

"Oh, that's-"

"… But maybe you could come here? If you wanted to, I mean. It's not like-"

"That would be fine," Magnus said, smoothly cutting off Alec's stuttering. "What time do you want me to come over?"

"Uh, well, my parents leave at six, so…"

"I'll get there at seven. Just to be safe."

"Really?"

"Really." Magnus shook his head, laughing to himself. "I'll see you at seven, Alexander."

And with that, he hung up, still laughing.

Magnus arrived just after seven. He wasn't quite fashionably late, but he knew that anything more might make Alec think he wasn't coming. And he didn't want to do that.

The house the Lightwood's lived in was attached to the back of the Institute. Magnus slipped quietly around the side, and found himself confronted with a surprisingly friendly green door, with stained glass set into it. He could see shapes moving through it—and for a moment was worried that Alec's parents might not have left after all—but he quickly recognised Izzy's willowy frame, shepherding a small dark haired blur up the stairs.

_That must be Max._ He realised.

He lifted a hand, and was about to knock when another dark haired blur—much taller, this time—came skidding around the corner, and quickly opened the door.

"Hi," Alec breathed, smiling at him. "Sorry, I… Max doesn't know you're here."

"Of course." Magnus said, stepping inside. "Of course he doesn't."

He hadn't intended it to sound bitter, but the look on Alec's face suggested it might have done, and Magnus hurried quickly to repair the damage. "I mean, you would hardly tell him, it wouldn't be… how old is he?"

"Nine."

"Right."

He didn't know what to say. Which only ever seemed to happen when he was with Alec. It was completely disconcerting.

"I bought Chinese," Alec said, suddenly. "If you're hungry,"

Magnus nodded, relieved at the change of subject. "Famished, actually. It's been a long day. Did your sister tell you…?"

Alec blinked. "Tell me what? I've barely seen her."

Magnus grinned, as Alec lead him through to the living room. There was a small table, with a box of take out settled on top of it. "Tell me, how much do you know about Isabelle's budding acting career?"

Alec looked stunned. "Well, I know she _wanted_ to go into acting, but my parents wouldn't let her. They said it wasn't stable enough."

"Well, it looks like ignoring your parents is a family trait." Magnus settled on the sofa beside Alec, and enjoyed the slight blush the crept into his cheeks. "I saw her at an audition today."

Alec's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious? For what part?"

"Portia, in a new adaptation of the Merchant of Venice. I have to say, I hope she gets the part. She's _very_ good."

"I can't believe… Wait, you saw her audition?"

"I auditioned _with_ her."

"That's… Unbelievable. My parents would _kill_ her…"

"Surely it can't be _that_ bad?" Magnus inquired, as Alec opened the takeout, and started laying it out on the table. "It's not that much less stable than dancing, if you're good enough."

Alec shrugged. "You don't know them. It's not just that—Izzy can be… difficult, generally. So can Jace, actually."

"But not you." Magnus said.

Alec looked up at him through dark lashes, and Magnus was struck once again by how beautiful he was. And he clearly had no idea.

"No," He said. "Not me."

"You never had a rebellious phase?" Magnus teased. "Never stayed out all night drinking, or tried to get your nose pierced? Nothing at all?"

Alec considered this for a moment. "Well, when I was thirteen, I did try to convince them to buy me a motorbike."

Magnus burst out laughing. "A _motorbike_? At thirteen?"

"I was convinced I'd be able to handle it. Obviously, they weren't too taken with the idea."

"I can imagine. How did you plan to learn to ride it?"

"I don't know, really… I have to blame Jace, at least slightly. It was all his idea. In the end, they decided to compromise with us, and bought us skateboards instead."

"That's a bit of a step down."

"I know. We got pretty good on them though, Jace especially. Izzy kept borrowing mine—she taught herself all these tricks, which I never did, so in the end I just let her keep it. I think she can still do a lot of them, but she's given it to Max now."

"What about Jace?" Magnus asked, somewhat against his will.

"Oh, I don't know what he did with his. It's probably still around somewhere…"

Alec had that look in his eyes again—the one that was always there when he talked about Jace. Magnus felt something twist in his gut; jealousy, he realised, with some annoyance.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt jealous of anyone.

Quickly, he changed the subject. They talked about anything and everything as they finished up their takeout, and Alec cleared the boxes away. Magnus was amazed by how endlessly fascinating Alec could make any given topic; whether it was the way the show was progressing (badly, by the sounds of it), or The Merchant of Venice, or Chinese food (which, it turned out, he knew very little about)… Magnus found himself wanting to listen. He also found himself wanting to _watch_—watch the way Alec's eyes lit up when he laughed, and the way his face flushed slightly when he talked about things he was enthusiastic about. The way his dark hair flopped consistently into his eyes.

When he went to brush it away for what felt like the fiftieth time, Magnus reached out a hand, and did it for him. He saw Alec blush slightly, and felt the mood between them shift.

Alec's eyes flickered to look at Magnus' mouth.

"Alexander…" Magnus said—and then, without him knowing quite how it happened, they were kissing, Alec's hands tangling in his hair and his long legs brushing Magnus'. He tasted like spice, and sweetness, and _Alec_, and Magnus wanted him closer— he pulled on the worn out fabric of Alec's ratty sweater, and heard Alec gasp as they collapsed backwards, Alec shifting slightly so that he was lying on top of Magnus, hands still in his hair.

Magnus slipped his own hands under Alec's sweater and shirt, touching the warm skin underneath. He kissed Alec's neck experimentally, and then a little harder, and Alec let out a sound that could only be described as a moan, as he buried his head in Magnus' shoulder.

Magnus turned slightly, and now they were side by side on the small sofa, and Alec opened his eyes to look straight at Magnus.

For a moment, they were completely still. Then, there was fire again, their lips crashing back together and their legs tangling.

This was entirely different from their long and languid kissing before in the park. Magnus could hear his heart pumping furiously—and Alec's too, as his hands moved up, pushing Alec's shirt and sweater up as far as they could go without having to be taken off. Alec was pulling him closer still, his arms wrapped around Magnus neck, and Magnus knew, with a sudden (and disappointing) clarity, that they had to stop.

With what felt like all the self control he had ever exercised, Magnus pulled away, resting his forehead on Alec's as he murmured. "Alexander, you might want to think about what we're doing…"

Alec looked at him, and Magnus could see his own reflection in the bright blue. "What do you mean?" He breathed.

"We're in your living room. Anyone could walk in."

Alec blinked, and for a strange moment he almost thought Alec might say, _"Let them."_

But then he sighed, looking away. "You're right. Of course. We should stop."

He pulled away from Magnus, sitting up and running his fingers through his messy hair.

"Do you want me to go?" Magnus asked, sitting up beside him.

"No," Alec replied, without trace of hesitation or doubt—and then looked slightly embarrassed. "I mean, if you want to, I'm not-"

Magnus silenced him, with a finger on his lips. "I don't want to." He told him, firmly. "I want whatever you want."

Alec looked conflicted. "I want you to stay. But I don't think you should."

Magnus sighed, but he knew Alec was right. He leant in, and kissed him again—quickly, and lightly—before standing up.

Alec looked alarmed. "You don't have to go right away, do you?"

"I… thought you would want me to."

"No, I don't. We just have to… tone it down a little." Alec smiled, and Magnus felt his heart flip. "We could just… sit?"

Magnus blinked at him. "I suppose we could."

He sat down again, and Alec edged slightly closer. Magnus hesitated, before moving to wrap his arm around Alec's shoulder. Alec rested his head on Magnus' shoulder—and they sat. They sat, and talked, and laughed, and with every second that passed, Magnus became more and more concerned that he might well be falling in love with Alexander Lightwood.


	11. Acting Lessons

**Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter This one's pretty short, but I promise I'll make it up to you. Anyway, who's psyched for COHF? Only a month to go!**

**Reviews really motivate me, so… Do with that what you will!**

It was almost half past one in the morning when Jace arrived back at the Institute, picking his way around the path that lead to the family home, his head full of Clary, Clary, _Clary. _

They'd spent another day trying to find some trace of her Mother, or even her stand-in-step-dad Luke, who had also disappeared without a trace, but to no avail. Jace was starting to feel like it was a hopeless task, but he couldn't find it in his heart to tell Clary that. She was so _determined_, so sure…

And, there was always the niggling voice at the back of his head, whispering: _If you stop helping her with this, she'll stop seeing you. She doesn't really like you. She can't possibly want to be with you…_

He shook his head, as if he could shake the thoughts out the way you'd shake dust out of a carpet, and turned the corner of the path…

And walked slap bang into Magnus Bane.

"_Magnus?" _ He said, incredulously. "What the hell are you doing lurking around my back yard?"

Magnus blinked. "I wasn't _lurking_," He said, "I was _leaving._"

"Leaving why?"

"Leaving so that I can go home. As nice as your home is, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to move in."

Jace rolled his eyes impatiently. "You know what I mean. Why were you _here_?"

"I…" For a moment, Magnus hesitated, his green eyes flickering back towards the house. "I was giving your brother acting lessons." He said, his face smoothing, all trace of concern gone.

Jace felt his eyebrows shoot up. "My brother as in my brother _Alec_?"

"No, your brother as in your brother Count Dracula. Of course Alec."

Jace narrowed his eyes. "Alec. Tall, dark haired, looks like he's been wearing the same clothes for the last ten years…?"

Magnus nodded, but Jace thought he looked slightly pained. "That's the one."

"Alec, as in, Alec "I would rather die a painful death at the hands of a particularly inventive medieval torturer than ever open my mouth on stage" Lightwood? Alec—my brother Alec—hired you, Magnus Bane, to teach him to act?"

Magnus rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"At half one in the morning?"

At that, Magnus hesitated again, before saying, "It would appear so. I really don't see what's so difficult to grasp in this situation."

"Nothing. There's nothing difficult about it." Jace shook his head, his mind whirring. "In fact, it makes perfect sense. Forget I ever asked you about it. I won't keep you. Good night!"

Magnus looked more than a little alarmed, and as if he might say something to keep Jace from returning to the house—but Jace was already shoving past him, waving cheerfully over his shoulder.

Magnus stared after him for a moment, and then shook his head, whipping out his phone as he continued down the path.

Jace jumped the steps two at a time, and unlocked the door. "Hello!" He called. "Is anyone up?"

A millisecond later, Alec appeared at the living room door, his hair messy and his eyes tired. "Just me." He said. "Did you, uuh, did you just get back?"

"No, I've been outside in the garden for the last half an hour, hanging upside down from a tree, adjusting to my new life as a bat."

Alec blinked. "Bats are nocturnal." Was all he said.

"So?"

"So, if you were a bat, you wouldn't be sleeping right now. You'd be, you know… Bat-ing."

"_Bat-ing?"_

"Well, I don't know what bats get up to in their free time." Alec said defensively. "I'm not a batologist."

Jace rolled his eyes, torn between exasperation and affection. "Yes, I just got home. And you'll never guess who I just saw leaving."

"Uhh, I don't know?"

"Really? That's strange. It was Magnus Bane. He claimed he'd seen you."

By this point, Alec's usually pale face had flushed bright red. "He—he had," He stammered. "We were, you know…"

"He said he was giving you acting lessons." Jace said.

Alec nodded emphatically. "Yes! Yes. That's what we were doing. Acting lessons."

"But you hate acting." Jace said, a clearer and clearer idea of what was going on beginning to form in his mind.

"No I don't! Well, I do, but… I still thought I should get some lessons." Alec finished, lamely. "You know, I'm a dancer. I need to be convincing, right?"

"Right. Well, I wouldn't worry about it. I for one think you're very convincing."

"Really?"

"Oh, _absolutely_." Jace clapped Alec on the arm, then turned to go up the stairs. As he set his foot on the first step, he looked back to where Alec still stood in the doorway. "Also, I don't know if you're aware, but you have something on your neck."

Alec's hand flew up to cover the slight reddish-purple mark at the base of his throat, his face going from pink to a vivid scarlet. "Where?" He said.

Jace suppressed a smile. "I, uh, I think you got it." He said. "Good night, Alec."

And with that, he bounded up the stairs, leaving Alec looking mortified in the living room doorway.

Clary couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes of different images: Her mother, smiling at her over a painting; Luke, swinging her up onto his shoulders; Simon crumpled in a heap at the feet of Raphael's gang…

Jace, his head bent over a library book, a curl of golden hair falling in his eyes…

She got up, and grabbed her glass from the bedside table. One of the best things about living at the Institute was that there were not many borders, and as such, each person got their own room.

The bad part was that the water in the bathrooms was not drinkable, and so to get water at night, she had to go all the way to the kitchen.

She threw on a dressing gown, and made her way through the dark corridors, thinking as she did so how cold the place was at night. It was an old building; it reminded her of the Cathedral in the Disney version of _"The Hunchback of Notre Dame.": _Impressive, and distant, and _cold_.

She'd said as such to Jace, and he'd laughed, then asked her what she thought the Lightwoods were keeping in the bell tower. She'd said she didn't know.

She found the kitchen, and opened the door—and then stopped dead, a wave of shock rolling through her body.

There was someone else in there, standing alone in the dark.

A boy, tall, with dark hair and very pale skin—and for a moment, she thought it must be Alec, but why would he be in the Institute at this time of night?

Then, he turned towards her, and she caught sight of a face full of sharp angles and strange shadows—a face carved from marble, she thought, nothing like Alec's delicate features. He seemed to shine slightly in the darkness, as he took a step towards her, hand outstretched.

"Sorry," He said. He had a slight accent—French, maybe? "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's… fine." She said. There was something oddly familiar about him, but she couldn't put his finger on what. It wasn't his face, so much as his movements, the slight smile that played around his pretty mouth.

"I'm new here, you see." He said. "I was trying to find a bathroom, and I got a little lost."

"Of course," Clary heard herself say. She felt as if she were in a dream; odd, unsettled. "I'm new here too. It's a confusing place."

His smile widened slightly. "It certainly is. What's your name?"

"Clary Fray."

He took her hand and shook it, though she hadn't offered. "It's good to meet you, Clary Fray. I'm Sebastian. Sebastian Verlac."


	12. Texting

**Hey, everyone! Thanks for reviewing again. This chapter has some sort-of Sizzy (well, a fair amount of sort-of Sizzy) but it's mainly me setting up the plot for the rest of the fic. I think you'll probably recognise a lot of where this is going to go… **

**Anyway, thank you for reading! And if you could review, I would love you forever. Tell me where you want the story to go!**

Alec collapsed into bed, his heart thumping in his chest, and grabbed his phone from the bedside table, where he'd left it. He turned it on—and saw immediately that he had a message from Magnus.

"_Careful," _It read, "_I_ _just bumped into Goldilocks. I said I was giving you acting lessons, but I don't think I convinced him."_

Alec could not help but smile a little, in spite of himself. Magnus had tried to warn him that Jace had seen him, tried to let him be prepared. He was sure that this situation could hardly by ideal for Magnus; after all, he probably wasn't _used_ to having to sneak around. Most of the people he dated had to be in at least their early twenties—not living with their parents and attempting to hide their love lives from them. It would be a lot less effort for him to just forget about Alec; to move on and date someone more sophisticated, less afraid…

But, inexplicably, he didn't seem to be going anywhere. And he cared enough about Alec's desire to keep their relationship a secret to lie for him, to try and protect him…

"_It's fine." _He text back. "_I think I might have gotten away with it."_

He told himself that it didn't matter whether Magnus replied or not, or how quickly—but he couldn't deny the pleasant jolt of surprise he felt when only a few moments later, the phone vibrated again.

"_Are you sure? I know that I am *very* convincing, but I'm not sure about your powers of persuasion. Jace was absolutely adamant that you are NOT the acting sort. And I'm afraid I'd have to agree"_

Alec frowned. _I'm not sure, it can be hard to tell with Jace. What do you mean?"_

Was this Magnus' way of working up to the "I-don't-think-we-should-see-each-other-anymore" conversation? _We're just not compatible; and I know you still have feelings for your best friend?_

Although, _did_ he still have feelings for Jace? Alec had to admit, the thought of Magnus dumping him filled him with a nameless dread, something quite incomparable to anything he had ever felt before. He'd always hated it when Jace had new girlfriends, and when Clary had come along he'd been horrified—but this was something else altogether. It was indescribable, and awful.

When the phone buzzed again, he hurried to unlock it with shaking hands—and sighed in relief.

"_I could have guessed that about him. And I meant your face, Darling. That blush of yours killed your acting career before it had even begun, I'm afraid—not that I'm complaining"_

"_You're not?" _Alec could feel his eyes beginning to droop, but he willed himself to stay awake. He was curious as to Magnus' answer—and he didn't want to stop speaking to him, if he could help it.

"_Of course not. It's terribly endearing, not to mention, I always know exactly what's on your mind"_

At that, Alec could feel his face heating up, even in the darkness, and he was glad Magnus wasn't there to see it. _"Not always!" _He protested.

"_Well, most of the time. Speaking of which, isn't it time you got some sleep? I'm guessing you're tired."_

"_I… how did you know?" _Alec shook his head. Either Magnus was secretly some kind of Magician—as well as an actor and a forger—or he was more perceptive than he should be allowed to be.

"_Just a hunch. Goodnight, Alexander. Sweet dreams—as long as they're about me, that is."_

Alec laughed. _"Goodnight, Magnus. x"_

He wondered about adding a "_they will be"_ to the end of his message, but he decided against it. For now, flirting was still very much Magnus' realm; he wasn't sure he could manage anything more than slightly embarrassed smiles in response.

Really, it was a miracle Magnus still bothered with him at all.

/

Izzy would not have denied that the first thing she did upon waking up in the morning was to check her phone. However, she almost certainly would have denied that it was because she was checking for a message from Simon, rather than her agent.

On both fronts, she was disappointed. The only person who had text her was her phone company, informing her that she'd used almost double her texting allowance.

She rolled her eyes, and swung her legs out of bed. It had only been three days since the audition. There was no reason why they would have gotten back to her yet. She'd checked with Magnus—and he hadn't heard anything either. Which was reassuring, since Izzy was almost certain he'd get the part. She'd known he was good; but she hadn't guessed he'd be _that_ good. There was something about him that made you want to watch him—and it wasn't just his looks, although they certainly helped. It was charisma; a certain easiness that Izzy couldn't help but be envious of. Even when he was acting, you just _wanted_ to like Magnus.

_How does he do it?_ She mused, as she readied herself for the day. It wasn't as if Izzy found it difficult to be around people; she could talk to anyone, about anything. But being _liked_… that was quite a different matter.

It was easy to make people want to be around you for an evening. But to make them want to stay _forever_…

As for Simon, Izzy told herself, she didn't need him to text her. In fact, she didn't _want _him to text her. She pushed the thought of his face out of her mind; the image of his dark eyes, laughing behind his glasses. She was Isabelle Lightwood. She could have anyone.

The new boy, for instance: Sebastian Verlac. He was gorgeous, and talented, and French—she'd never dated a French boy before. German, yes, but he'd had an obsession with taxidermy, which Isabelle had found much to disconcerting to ignore.

Simon didn't enjoy taxidermy, as far as she was aware. He did play a lot of _"Dungeons and Dragons"—_which Izzy had tried to join in with, and not enjoyed—and his band was truly abysmal, but somehow she found herself willing to forgive him those things.

Come to think of it, Sebastian might have been beautiful, and an astonishingly good dancer, but he was also rather bland. Not to mention the way his eyes followed Clary around the room hungrily—almost like he was waiting for something, Izzy thought. Naturally, this had caused Jace to be even ruder to him than he usually was. Izzy might have felt sorry for him, under other circumstances, but she could tell that he was scaring Clary a little.

Simon, she had been pleased to notice, had not commented on Sebastian's apparent interest in Clary.

Admittedly, Simon hadn't _met_ Sebastian, but Izzy was sure Clary had told him about it. They seemed to tell each other everything.

_It doesn't matter_. She told herself. _It's not like I'd tell him about myself anyway. I don't need to tell him things. _

When her phone, abandoned on the bedside table, began ringing, she jumped up to answer it—and told herself she wasn't disappointed to see that it was her agent, Vanessa.

"Hello?"

"Izzy, _darling_!" Squealed the voice at the other end of the line. "I've got _fabulous_ news!"

Izzy felt her heart skip a beat. "Did I get it? Did I get the part?"

"You did! Fabulous, isn't it? Only seventeen years old, and snagging a role like this, absolutely _wondrous_, darling!"

Izzy felt her heart soar into her chest. "So, I'm Portia?"

"Uh… no. You're Jessica. But the director told me they're writing her in extra lines, giving her a bigger role, just to show you off. They _love _you, darling. This is a fantastic part, believe me."

Izzy allowed herself a moment of disappointment, before taking in the good news: She was in the film, she had a major part… and an _interesting_ part, at that. "Oh, well. I'm sure I'll be all they talk about anyway," She said lightly, and then, "So who did they cast? As Portia, I mean?"

"Oh, that French one, you know, who was in that odd artistic film last year… Camille Belcourt?"

The name rang a bell, but Izzy couldn't think why. "I've heard of her. Who else?"

"Well, it's Ragnor Fell as Antonio, Magnus Bane as Bassanio…" Izzy grinned, and for a moment was a little glad that she hadn't gotten the role of Portia—it would have been more than a little awkward explaining to Alec that she was going to have to make out with his boyfriend (if Magnus _was_ Alec's boyfriend. Izzy wasn't sure) on screen.

Vanessa carried on rattling off names, but Izzy had stopped listening. She couldn't wait to tell her brothers, to tell Clary—even her parents, once their annoyance had worn off. But the one person she wanted to tell most of all, she wasn't sure she could.

"… so you'll be starting filming in a week or so. It's all set in New York, so there's no travel for you—really, Darling, it's perfect, absolutely perfect…"

"That's great, Vanessa," Izzy said. "I'll talk to you later, I… I have to go. See ya!"

Vanessa sounded like she was about to protest, but Izzy had already hung up.

_Can I text Simon? Would it be totally clingy and needy to text Simon?_

She had taken him to the audition with her. He would probably be interested to know.

But then again…

She sighed, and threw herself down on the bed. Alec probably already knew by now; Magnus would have told him. Alec was the first person she told everything, usually—if she was going to tell anyone at all—and she knew he trusted her in return.

But it felt different, somehow, telling Simon. Strange, and strangely exciting.

She stared at the blank screen of her phone for a few more seconds, before pressed the "Message" button, and began to type.


	13. Jocelyn

**Hey guys, I'm trying to bang out a few more chapters of this before my exams hit in earnest. That means there might be more updates than usual this week, and then none at all for a couple, and I'm really sorry! It's slightly beyond my control… Anyway, hope you like it! Reviews are so appreciated right now **

Magnus sat in the café opposite his apartment, flicking idly through the day's paper, and sipping at some lukewarm coffee, his gaze roving the street outside. Sometimes it was nice, he thought, just to sit, and watch people going about their business…

He had spent the whole day pacing his apartment, furiously debating whether or not to accept the role. On the one hand, it was almost certainly the opportunity of a lifetime. He would get to work—if only briefly—with Izzy; he would break into the film industry at _last_…

This film was going to be big. They would be household names once it was done, all of them. It wasn't the sort of thing he could just turn down.

On the other hand… _Camille_.

Magnus had not seen Camille for almost ten years, and he hadn't missed her in at least five. She had been his first love— or he had thought so, anyway, and she had hurt him more than he had thought imaginable.

The pain had dulled with the passing of the years, but his resentment of her had only grown. Looking back, he could see their relationship for what it had truly been: One sided, and unhealthy.

Magnus did not want to work with her in the slightest. _Especially_ not playing each other's love interests. Camille was bound to use the opportunity to her advantage.

He was not worried about falling for her, as he might once have been—not now, not with Alec in his life—but he knew Camille. She was the embodiment of the phrase _"Misery loves company": _If she could not get Magnus to return to her (and she was bound to try, if only to prove that she could have him) then she was sure to exact revenge upon him in some way or other. And with Alec's sister in close proximity… It seemed like a recipe for disaster.

He let his eyes drift over the street again—and froze, his coffee hovering half way to his lips.

There was a woman standing outside his apartment building; shifting from foot to foot and pulling her clothes around herself, looking about nervously. She was slim, with the long, lean body of a dancer, and dark red hair that blew around her face in the breeze.

She was instantly familiar to him: Jocelyn Fray—previously Jocelyn Morgenstern. Clary's missing Mother.

Without thinking, Magnus got to his feet, casting down a few dollars on the table for the coffee, and raced across the street.

"Jocelyn?" He called out as he approached.

"Magnus!" She exclaimed, relief breaking over her beautiful face. "Thank God. I wasn't sure what I'd do if you weren't here."

Her voice was less steady than it usually was. Magnus looked her over critically: She had lost weight, and the fine bones of her face now poked out from under taut skin. There were shadows under her eyes, which did not quite disguise a fading bruise on the left side of her face.

"Come in," He said. "Quickly."

She nodded, and he unlocked the door, preparing himself to hear quite a story once they were inside.

/

"I know you have been to the Institute." Jocelyn said, once she was seated on his sofa, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands (Magnus believed firmly that coffee was the cure for all ills, but it was entirely possible he was a little _too_ dependent on the stuff).

He didn't ask how she knew, only nodded. Sometimes, it was better not to ask.

"Then you've seen Clary?"

Again, he nodded.

"How is she?"

"Better than one might expect. She's tough—she's _your_ daughter. Angry, of course. I thought she was going to rip my head off when she first saw me. Betrayed. She's worried sick about you—and the fact that your boyfriend disappeared alongside you…"

"What boyfriend?"

"That man you brought with you a few times when you came to see me?"

"Luke."

"Yes, that's right."

"Luke is not my boyfriend." Jocelyn said, stiffly.

Magnus raised an eyebrow involuntarily, but said nothing. "Well, regardless. You've got some explaining to do. Not to me, of course. But I wouldn't mind, if you did tell me. I'm sure it's a very interesting tale."

Jocelyn shook her head, and sighed. She looked exhausted, Magnus thought, and it was clear from the dishevelled state of her clothes that she hadn't changed in at least several days.

"Where to begin?" She said with a bitter laugh. "Oh, _God,_ where do I begin…"

She put her face in her hands. Magnus reached out a hand to comfort her, but he was not surprised when she looked up mere seconds later, her eyes dry. Jocelyn Fray did not cry.

"Valentine found me." She said, simply. "I suppose that much you must have deduced."

"Indeed. I told Clary I suspected as much."

"It was so lucky, _so_ lucky, that she wasn't there at the time… Valentine had no interest in her; he assumed she was Luke's child…"

"I wonder why." Magnus muttered. Jocelyn ignored him.

"… but if he'd met her, he would have known instantly. She bears quite a resemblance to him in life, but it's not so obvious in pictures… Anyway. He took me to some godforsaken hell-hole, an abandoned hospital of sorts I think, though I'm not sure where it was. And he told me he'd always loved me, that I belonged to him, and that he had always belonged to me…" Jocelyn shuddered. "I told him to go to hell, of course. He didn't like that."

_Of course._ Magnus thought—and he had to repress a smile. Clary and her Mother were very much alike, in many ways.

"He also told me something else." Jocelyn continued, leaning closer. "And it's about that that I've come to you. Valentine said that he had done something terrible, whilst we were together. Something that couldn't be allowed to come to light. He told me there was only one record of it—one final way in which it might be traced back to him. And the Lightwoods have it, at The Institute. They don't know it's there—but Valentine left it in their care, all those years ago. They were very loyal to him. But Valentine doesn't value loyalty, not beyond how it allows him to control and manipulate people. Magnus, if he suspects that loyalty has in anyway degraded over the years—or if he thinks they'll work out what that record truly is—he won't spare them. I think they might be in terrible danger. Especially now…"

"Especially now what?"

"Now that I've escaped. Luke suspected where Valentine had taken me; it seems strange now, but they were quiet close, back when we were young… He came with a few of his friends, and broke in while Valentine was sleeping. We got away, but I've been hiding with Luke ever since. I can't go back to Clary: He knows where she is, and he'll be watching. Now that I know about this… document, he's going to be scared. I think he thought at first that I still loved him; once he realised he was wrong, that I hate him more than I knew I was capable of hating, he was angry. I think he would have killed me, eventually: Valentine's love is more like ownership. But I came to you, because I know that you are still in contact with Maryse and Robert. I don't like them much, but they don't deserve whatever Valentine will unleash on them to stop them revealing this evidence. Warn them."

Magnus leaned back in his chair, studying Jocelyn's flushed face and worried eyes.

"What did he do?" He asked. "What crime is recorded in this document?"

Jocelyn shook her head. "He wasn't terribly specific." She sighed. "He said, '_I don't want you to think ill of me, for what I have done. You wouldn't understand why it was necessary.' _But I think it was something awful, Magnus. Valentine doesn't fear the law, not like normal people do."

"And what of your son?" Magnus inquired. "I remember, you said there was another boy, Jonathan. Was he still with Valentine?"

"He died." She said, and her face betrayed no emotion, though Magnus saw something flicker in the depths of her green eyes. "When he was four. Valentine claimed it was in a car accident. I think I believe him, strangely enough. He seemed… sorry. As sorry as Valentine can ever be, at least."

Magnus said nothing. It must be hard, he supposed, to never have held your son, never have really been able to love them—and then to find out that any opportunity you might have had had been snatched away…

"But that's in the past." Jocelyn said. "What matters now is Clary. Please, Magnus, tell her you've seen me—that Luke and I are both okay, and that we're sorry. And tell Maryse and Robert Lightwood that they are in danger. They might not listen to you—Maryse in particular was very loyal to Valentine—but you must try. Do you promise?"

"I promise." Magnus said, solemnly.

Jocelyn slumped back, looking as if a weight had been lifted from her slim shoulders.

"Thank you."

/

Magnus was greeted at the doors of the Institute by Alec. He had text ahead to inform Alec of his arrival—partly because he needed him to tell Maryse and Robert, and partly because any excuse to talk to Alec was a good excuse.

"Are you alright?" Alec asked. "Is something wrong? Why do you need to see my parents?"

Magnus explained the situation as quickly as he could as they walked into the Institute, through the long stone corridors and past stony inlets.

Alec looked stunned. "My parents don't have anything of Valentine's." He said, at once. "I know they were friends, but that was a long time ago. They wouldn't have kept any of his things, especially not something incriminating…"

"Alexander…" Magnus began, looking for the right words to explain what he wanted to say.

Alec stopped walking. "What?" He demanded. "You don't think they've been _helping _him all along, do you?"

"No, it's not that…"

Magnus glanced around quickly. There was nobody around. He took Alec's hand in his, playing with his fingers as he laced them together. Alec looked down at their hands, and Magnus thought he detected a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"Old loyalties don't always just die because somebody did something wrong. Even if they did a lot of things wrong, and you know logically that they aren't a good person… it doesn't mean that you necessarily stop caring about them. And even if you don't want anything to do with them anymore, the urge to protect them is still there. Imagine if Izzy, or Max, or Jace did something awful. Really awful—the sort of thing you couldn't forgive. Could you honestly say that you would turn them in? That you would hate them?"

Alec hesitated. "That's different." He said, softly, his eyes still on their entwined hands. "They're my siblings."

Magnus felt his heart stutter. It was the first time he had ever heard Alec refer to Jace as his brother.

"You can't love someone just because you're related to them. It goes deeper than that."

"I know, but… I honestly think my parents cut themselves off from Valentine a long time ago. Especially my Mom. She never talked about him a lot, but when she did, it seemed like she hated him. And besides, they both believe absolutely in the power of the law to deliver justice. If they knew that Valentine had done something really illegal, I don't think they'd hide it."

Magnus shrugged. "In which case, it's entirely possible they don't know they have it."

He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Alec was leaning in towards him slightly, looking up at him through lashes that were longer and darker than Magnus thought they had any right to be.

"So, you don't think they're bad people, right?"

"No, I don't. I don't think there _are_ many bad people in the world. People sometimes do bad things for good reasons, though. Foolish things."

Magnus wondered if he should tell Alec about Camille—after all, if he _did_ accept the part, it seemed only right that Alec should know. And perhaps Alec would be able to advise him on the best course of action…

He was so busy debating what he should do that when Alec pressed his lips against his—softly, and oh so gently—it took him completely by surprise. He stumbled slightly, and Alec pulled him back into one of the shady alcoves, with gargoyles carved into the pillars on either side.

Alec's back hit the cold wall, and Magnus buried his hands in his soft black hair, pulling Alec closer. He had no idea what had brought this on, but he certainly didn't feel like complaining about it. All he knew was that it had been a long time since he felt this alive, and all he wanted was to be still closer, and not to stop. He knew logically that they couldn't stay there forever, in that shadowy alcove in the cold stone corridor—but he also knew that every time he pulled away from Alec, there was a chance it would be the last time. A chance that Alec would change his mind, or get scared, or decide that he didn't actually like Magnus that much after all. And with every moment that passed, Magnus wanted Alec to stay more and more.

The problem was that Alec's kisses were so sincere, so completely and earth shatteringly enthusiastic, it was almost impossible to think straight. It was difficult to believe, in that moment, that Alec wanted to be anywhere other than with him.

There was a sort of ledge slightly to the side of them, and Magnus pushed Alec down onto it, then wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him in to kiss him again. Alec made a soft, pleased sound at the back of his throat, and his warm hands found the skin of Magnus' stomach, pushing his shirt aside and pulling himself towards him.

"Magnus…" Alec murmured against his lips, and Magnus felt his heart stumble in his chest.

He was suddenly and startlingly aware that it was almost too late. That if he didn't get out now, he would be at serious risk of getting hurt, of being involved beyond the point at which he could beat an easy retreat. Magnus had always tried his best to protect his heart, and he had often failed—but this felt different. This felt strange, and wonderful, and dangerous, and the worst part was that he couldn't be sure that Alec felt anything like he did in return.

Alec kisses became softer, and Magnus decided that actually, he didn't particularly care if he got hurt—that it would be worth it.

He pressed Alec against the wall behind them, his hands twining through Alec's hair again, his heart beating like a drum in his hears, and Alec gasped, his hands fluttered against Magnus' skin…

And the sound of a door banging echoed through the corridor. Alec jerked away from Magnus so fast that he fell off the stone ledge, landing on his behind with a heavy thump. Under other circumstances, Magnus would have laughed to see a supposedly graceful dancer sprawling on the floor in such an undignified manner, but as it was he simply stood up, peeking out from the stone enclave.

Jace Wayland was striding towards them, his gait a little too unconcerned and lolloping to be sincere. Alec jumped to his feet. "Jace!" He exclaimed.

"Alec. And Magnus Bane. What a surprise. Listen, you two need to quit canoodling and get your asses up to the office. Mom is about to throw a hissy fit."

"Canoodling? We—we weren't _canoodling_." Alec looked slightly green, as if he was seasick. "You don't think—why on earth would we be _canoodling_?"

Jace gave Magnus a long, calculating look, and then shrugged. "Beats me." He said.

"Jace," Alec's blue eyes were wide. "It's not—we're not-"

Jace looked confused. "Alec," He said. "You know I don't care, right? It's not a problem."

Magnus—who had always suspected that Alec's fears about Jace's acceptance were misplaced—looked to Alec with some curiosity. Perhaps this reassurance would be what he needed…?

Clearly, it wasn't. If anything, Alec looked _more_ upset than before.

Jace looked to Magnus in alarm. "What's eating him?" He asked. "Alec, seriously, I don't-"

He reached out a hand to touch Alec's arm, and Alec jumped away from him. "There's nothing to care about!" He said. "Really, Jace!"

Jace looked to Magnus again, who gave the slightest of non-committal shrugs he could muster, as if to say, _"What would I know?"_

Jace shook his head. "Fine. Whatever. Just hurry up, please?"

Magnus gestured to the hall ahead of them. "By all means, lead the way goldilocks."

Jace rolled his eyes, and started off down the corridor. Alec and Magnus fell into step behind him, not saying a word. Alec was refusing to look anywhere but at the floor, and his face was burning.

Magnus sighed. He had been wrong. _This _was the worst part.


End file.
